Rusted Gold
by CupcakeSprinkles14
Summary: *Sequel to Torn Between* It's been a year since Cato saved Peeta from the Mafia's clutches and they both believe that maybe they can finally move on and be happy. But then, nothing's really that easy is it? When a ghost from the past returns, his intentions clear, will Cato be able to keep Peeta safe or is being able to save him twice too much to ask?
1. Oreos and Drinks

_**A/N: So yay! I got the first chapter of the sequel done! *Mini party* Basically this is set a year after the last chapter of Torn Between, so, well, enjoy! Also if you've clicked to read this without having read Torn Between, I'd strongly suggest reading it first. A lot of stuff won't make sense if you don't.**_

_**Enjoy reading!**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

Chapter One-Oreos and Drinks

_**Cato: D12 Primary School: 3:30pm**_

"No, no, no, you're doing it wrong," the little boy with pink, chubby cheeks says. I frown at him, my knees nearly touching my chin in the plastic red seat designed for a five year old. He takes the half eaten biscuit out of my hand and puts it down on the table, shaking his head in exasperation. "There's a trick."

"A trick?" I say slowly, questioning. "To eating a biscuit?"

"Duh," the boy says. "Have you ever read the front of the packet?"

"Uh . . . "

"Look, it's simple," the boy says, holding a fresh chocolate biscuit out on his flat palm. "You twist it." He twists around the top of it and pulls it off, showing me the unbroken top before continueing. "You lick it." He licks away the icing in the middle. "Then you dip it." He presses both pieces back together, dips it in his milk and eats it.

"Yeah, I think I'll just eat it normally," I say. A dark look passes over the kid's face and he pushes his glass of milk toward me and holds out another Oreo.

"Twist it. Lick it. Dip it," he says in an angry tone that actually makes me slightly frightened.

"Peeeeettaaa," I call warily, keeping my eyes on the creepy child at all times.

"What?" I hear Peeta call back from the storeroom, his voice slightly muffled through the shut door.

"When does this kid's parents come again?" I ask.

"Um, about five more minutes." Peeta comes back into the room with two cardboard boxes balanced ontop of each other held tightly in his arms. I can just about see strands of his blond hair sticking out from behind the boxes. "Why? Eager to leave?"

"Kind of, yeah," I reply, raising a worried eyebrow as the kid points at me, the milk, then drags his finger across his throat. Peeta sighs and dumps the boxes on his desk.

"Are you making people uncomfortable again Clap?" he asks, walking over to us and ruffling the evil child's black hair.

"No Mr. Mellark," Clap replies, smiling innocently and batting his eyelashes. My jaw drops at his change of personality. He dropped from demon child to angel kid in 0.3 seconds. "I was just sharing my cookies with Cwato." Cwato? What the hell is that? This boy is diabolical.

"That's nice." Peeta smiles at me and shrugs before he moves back to his desk to stick some paintings up onto a notice board, the scowl immediately returning to Clap's face. I hastily get out of the seat and hurry over to join Peeta. I frown at the piece of paper he's currently holding of a stick person with a rotonned belly and stick like hair. The words MY MOM are written in pink below the figure's feet. Peeta chuckles at the drawing and writes _Anna_ in the bottom corner.

"_That's_ supposed to be art?" I scoff.

"They're young. They still have a lot to learn. You need to nurture talent from a young age," Peeta replies, pinning it to the notice board.

"That's not talent, that's a balloon waiting to burst," I say.

Peeta chuckles and shakes his head. "They're kids Cato, what do you expect? The Mona Lisa?" A frown forms on my face and I glare at his sarcastic tone. "Plus this is only the grade one class. I also teach the grade sevens. They're . . . better."

"Better?" I question, quirking an eyebrow at him.

"Okay, they're alright. Sort of. Talent is few and far between you know Hadley," Peeta says. He takes another pile of papers out of one of the boxes and shuffles through them quickly.

"You know, I sort of fancy myself as a painter," I say. I try not to show my intial reactions to half of the kid's paintings on my face as Peeta examines each one. My statement makes him momentarily pause his movements before resuming them just as quickly as he had stopped them.

"Really?" he asks. I can't help smiling as he tries to hide the disbelief in his voice.

"Oh yeah," I reply. "Although, in a more unconventional sense."

"Oh? And what's that then?"

I look back at Clap the Devil's Child. The boy's back is to us, his arm moving furiously as he scribbles a blank sheet of paper with an orange crayon, milk and oreos sitting right beside the page. I walk around to the other side of Peeta and lower my head so my lips are inches away from his ear. He sucks in a shaky breath at my proximity.

"It's a rare method, most artists don't even use it because they're too corwardly to do so but you know me, I don't know the meaning of cowardly. It's the use of a human body instead of a canvas." Peeta glances at me out of the corner of his eye as I speak, curious to what I'm implying.

"Meaning . . . ?" he asks.

"_Meaning_ as soon as this kid's cleared off, I'm going to take those paints over there, put them on one of those wooden thingys like a proper artist and show you _exactly_ what I mean when I say using the human body as a canvas." I trail my index finger down his chest before pulling away, showing him what I'm thinking and grinning at his flushed face.

"I hate you," he mutters. At first I'm confused but soon realize what's wrong with him when moves round to the other side of the desk and sits down on the wheeled chair, pulling himself forward so that his lower half is covered up underneath. It takes a lot for me not to laugh.

Clap's mother soon arrives to collect him and Peeta still sits pressed up against his desk, unable to move. "Good afternoon Mr. Mellark," the woman says as Clap shrugs his backpack on. "Thank you for looking after Clap for me."

"No problem Mrs. Davis. He was no bother," Peeta replies, pretending to be doing some paper work so that he doesn't have to get up. "Any time you want him watched again, I'm always free." Pff, always. Over my head body if I have to wait on him nearly every day of the week with oreo crazed Clap for company.

"Are you alright Mr. Mellark?" Mrs. Davis asks. God, the Mr. Mellark thing gets to me every single time. It even sounds hot coming from the mouth of the mother of the spawn of Satan. "You look kind of flushed."

"Huh?" Peeta asks, pretending to not have heard her. "Oh, no, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" I ask, grinning. "Miss. Davis is right. You do look sort of flushed _Mr. Mellark."_ Peeta glares at me and I wink at him.

"Yes Cato, I'm sure. Thank you for the concern though," he says through clenched teeth.

"Well, I better go," Mrs. Davis says, taking Clap's hand and leading him out. "Thanks again." I wave goodbye and shut the door behind them. When I turn around the glare on Peeta's face could stop a clock.

"I'm going to kill you," he says.

"No you won't," I reply. "You looovvveee meee."

"What am I supposed to do with _this?!"_ He points underneath the table and I chuckle at his frustrated expression. I sweep around the desk and sit down ontop of it and push his chair out from underneath with my foot. The visible bulge in his jeans confirms my suspicions of his last ten minutes sitting tight against the desk.

"I could take care of it for you," I say, wiggling my eyebrows at him teasinly.

"What? In a Grade One classroom?!" Peeta scoffs. "You're joking right?"

"Come on, be adventurous," I tease. Peeta rolls his eyes and pushes himself back and forth on the wheeled chair.

"I let you 'take care of it' on the kitchen table last night," he says. "Where we _eat_ might I add. I think that's adventurous enough for now."

"Aw come on, you loved it didn't you?"

"That's besides the point!"

"You sure?" I ask. "I _could_ get the paints out you know-"

"Uh, no thanks, the kids use those. There are many things I'll let you try Cato but I refuse to let you ruin my ability to show a kid how to paint-which is, like, a quarter of my job requirements you know-just because you want to use a human canvas! Which, by the way, I still don't fully get!"

"Let me elaborate," I say, grabbing his legs and pulling him toward me on the seat. I pull him until he plants his feet on the desk and stops me. I quirk an eyebrow at him and he quirks his own back. He's close enough that his knees are slightly bent and-if he wasn't being so damn stubborn by leaning back on the seat so that the whole back pad reclines back-his face would be inches from my own. "What I meant by using the human body as a canvas was a slightly cleaner version of what I was really talking about since there was a child present."

"So what did you really mean?" he asks, folding his arms and crossing his ankles.

"I meant-in shortest terms-I was going to paint on _you."_

Peeta's eyebrows shoot to his hairline and he sighs. "I had a feeling you meant something like that."

"Well, mini Peeta certainly did," I say, gesturing to his current perdiciment. He scowls and pushes back so that the chair slides away.

"I keep trying to think of old people to quell it but you won't shut up!" Peeta says. I grin and plant my foot on the seat and push it so that it spins in a 360 circle.

"Just imagine it baby, the cold paint tickling your skin as I run it so _agonizingly _slowly down your body-"

"Shut up!"

"The bristles of the brush sweeping along your jaw and down your neck-"

"I'm not listening!" I grin as he plants his hands over his ears and shuts his eyes tight.

"Down, down, _down_ until it reaches and circles your hipbones-"

"La La La La La La! I can't hear you!"

I pull his hands away from his ears and yank his legs back towards me again. "Stop being such a baby and just kiss me already," I demand. Peeta rolls his eyes but does as I ask and kisses me. I sneak my hand around his neck and deepen it, rolling the seat closer to me. He's so close now that his legs are either side of me and his feet are inches away from the other end of the desk.

His hands slide up my chest and wind around my neck when I slide my tongue into his mouth and he sighs into my mouth. I inch my hand up his thigh and under his shirt, making him gasp as my cold hand touches his warm skin.

"WHOA! What did I just walk into?!" A voice exclaims behind us. Peeta immediately bolts away in shock and rolls backwards into the wall. I hang my head in exasperation before turning around.

"Goddamn it Clove!" I say. "You really need to work on your timing! Jeez."

"Sorry Cato, not my fault if you have the self control of an ape," Clove says, holding her hands up and approaching the desk. "I'm here to do my _job_ unlike _some_ people."

"I'm doing my job!" I protest. "I'm keeping an eye on a potential stalker victim!"

"Who also happens to be your _boyfriend,_" Clove points out. "Not much of a challenge really, is it?"

"He isn't doing his job either!" I say, pointing at Peeta, who lightly kicks me in the knee.

"Yes, very likely because you were distracting him," Clove replies. "Am I correct Peet me ol' pal?"

"100% correct as always Clover," Peeta answers. Their nicknames for each other are ridiculous and yet catchy. Both of them met each other when Clove and I were assigned the job of keeping an eye on Peeta and they immediately got on like a house on fire.

"Wait till' you see what I made!" Clove says, dropping a plastic bag onto the table.

"What?" Peeta and I ask at once.

"_Well_ you know the way you said that you discovered that gay bar just outside the District?" she asks, jumping onto the desk to sit beside me.

"Yeah," we both say.

"And that you were thinking of checking it out?" she continues.

"Uh-huh," I say.

"Wait, we are?" Peeta asks.

"Well, yeah," I reply.

"Don't worry Peeta, he tends to do this," Clove says. "Making decisions without informing you. You'll get used to it. Plus I'm coming too!"

"So what's this to do with your job then?" I ask.

"Shut up Hadley," Clove snaps.

"So what's in the bag?" Peeta asks.

"You'll love these," Clove replies. "I found a shitload of those bejeweled diamond things in my attic and I know you've been saying that Peeta's been needing jeans-"

"I _have_ jeans," Peeta interuppts. "It's Mr. Perverted Mind there that tells people I need them just because I don't have any skinny jeans anymore."

"Well, that does sound like Cato," Clove says. I roll my eyes. That's another thing about them both being in the same room together, they both make jokes to my expense. "Still, these are skinny jeans and I also managed to get my hands on some hot glue! The end product being-" She pulls a pair of jeans out of her bag and holds them in the air with a flourish-"Peeta's clubbing pants!"

The front of them look pretty normal but when she turns them around I have to bite back a laugh. Across the backpockets (a.k.a the ass of the pants) Clove has stuck thousands of pink sparkly jewels spelling out, 'HOT ASS'.

"Oh my god! They are amazing!" I laugh, unable to hold it back anymore. "You're totally wearing them tonight Peeta!"

"Hold on, we're going _tonight?_" Peeta asks.

"Sure, why not?" Clove asks. "It's a Friday! Live a little grandpa!" I take the jeans off her and examine them more closely. "I also got an 'I'M SEXY AND I KNOW IT' tank top, an 'MY BOYFRIEND'S HOTTER THAN YOURS' shirt and an 'I'M NOT GAY BUT I'M READY TO PARTY HARD' short dress."

"How many sequin jewels did you find exactly?"

"I told you. A shit load."

"Oh and that explains _everything."_

"Uh-huh. Look, I gotta go and get ready but pick me up at half eight, okay?" Clove says.

"Okay Clove, see you then," I say as she heads to the door.

"Bye Clover," Peeta calls.

"See ya Peet! Enjoy the pants!"

"Will do!"

I grin and look at Peeta, hooking my finger under his shirt collar and pulling him up to me once Clove has left. "Now I'm even more excited for tonight," I whisper into his ear before softly nipping it.

"Uh-huh." Peeta moans quitely as I pepper kisses down his neck. I reach out and grab a stray paintbrush up from the desk. I pull back and hold it up to his eyes, brushing it along the tip of his nose, making him shiver.

"Now, where were we?"

~xXx~

"Look at you guys!" Clove says, coming out of her house in her bejewled short dress. Her hair is piled up in a dark bun and two shirts lie in the crook of her arm. "Damn Mellark those jeans look gooooddd! I, if I do say so myself, am amazing. Now"-she holds both of the shirts in each of her hands and hold them out to us-"Who wants to wear what?"

"I think I'll take the 'MY BOYFRIEND IS HOTTER THAN YOURS' one," I say, taking the white shirt with deep red sequins on it.

"Tight jeans not enough? Wanna oggle your boyfriend's arms as well in the tank top?" Clove teases as Peeta sheepishly takes the tank top.

"Like you won't stare either," I tease back. Clove rolls her eyes and straightens out my shirt once I have it on. Peeta turns on his heel and heads back down the path to the car.

"Hey Mellark!" Clove calls down to him.

"What?" he asks.

"You've got some paint on your neck!"

Peeta blushes and wipes furiously at his neck where I painted him mere hours ago. The sequins on the back of his jeans glitter in the moonlight and my mouth waters slightly at the way they hug his butt perfectly. Clove slaps me and gives me a get-a-hold-of-yourself look before stalking after Peeta to the car.

After the occurances that happened in club S&P last year, I was worried that Peeta would be nervous and jumpy at the Gay Bar but he actually suprises me by jumping into things and being the one who drags me after him.

"JKD and a Coke!" Clove yells at the bar over the noise of the club. This is her third drink and she's starting to get a bit hammered. She sticks out like a sore thumb as the only woman here but she got into the club by complimenting the man at the door-a stereotypical gay-by saying that she absoloutely _loved_ his shoes. I'm still on my first drink and so is Peeta but Clove downs each of hers like a machine.

I've been to my fair share of gay bars in the past and it's kind of easy for me to notice when people's eyes are wandering over someone they like the look of (I used to be one of them. What? Why not? I _was_ single after all). So I can't help but notice every single person who looks at Peeta in passing in a desirable/lustful way. I don't blame them and I feel kind of proud to be the person who gets to go home with him at the end of the night but it's hard not to punch their faces in and tell them to look at his eyes not his ass.

Even now, the barman is staring at him as he cleans a glass. Peeta, oblvious to the amount of eyes on him, continues to chat to Clove and I about how he's planning to visit Katniss and the kids tomorrow. Clove notices the many wandering eyes too and the cheeky bitch keeps glancing at me and sniggering.

"You can come too if you want Cato. The kids love you," Peeta says.

"I'd love to seem them again," I reply. "As long as none of them tell me off for not eating an oreo right."

"Why? Who did that?" Clove asks.

"There's this kid in his class who's mum works late and has to stay behind an extra ten minutes and I swear to god he's the spawn of satan," I explain.

"Aw, Clap isn't that bad," Peeta says.

"Clap? What sort of name is that?" Clove sniggers.

"Says Cloverfield Clove," I say.

"Shut up Catorie," Clove snaps.

_"Catorie?"_ Peeta asks, his eyes wide in shock. Clove laughs and sips her drink, playing with the free yellow umbrella that came in the glass.

"Oh yeah," she says. "Didn't he tell you? His name's Catorie."

"No it's not Clove," I say through clenched teeth. "I changed it."

"Oh yes, that's right, he 'changed' it," Clove says, winking at Peeta who nods in understanding. "But what did your Mama call you?" She holds her hand up to her ear and I sigh.

"Catorie," I mutter.

"What?"

"Catorie," I repeat a little louder.

"Huh? Can't hear you!"

"My mother called me Catorie!" I snap.

"See?" Clove says truimphantly. "Catorie Hadley."

"You know, I'm starting to regret bringing you," I mutter, downing the rest of my drink and ordering another one. Peeta grins but tries to hide it by covering his face with his hand.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm named after a bread," he puts forward. "And so are my brothers, Wheat and Rye." Clove nearly chokes on her drink and I laugh as she nearly coughs up a lung. While I'm hitting her back to stop her from dying, a drink is put down in front of Peeta.

"It's from this guy," the barman explains. "He wants to stay annoymous though."

"Really?" Peeta frowns, eyeing the drink as if it's an alien item in front of him. "That's strange . . . it's my favourite drink and everything . . ."

"Can't you just tell us who?" Clove asks excitedly. "I wanna know who the admirer is so I can shake his hand for making Catorie here green with envy!"

"Stop calling me that Clove or I swear to . . . " I trail off as my phone bleeps. I pull it out of my pocket and open up the text message. It's a photo. Of us. Right now. At the bar. We're all staring at the drink on the bar in front of Peeta. Below it is two words:

_Look up_

I look up and my eyes lock across the club to the doorway. Standing there in the doorway is Finnick Odair. My stomach drops into my stomach and my jaw drops open. It's been nearly a year since he escaped from my clutches! I thought he was going to leave us alone! Obviously this is not the case. He grins at me before nodding at Peeta and miming drinking up. A group of people suddenly pass the door and when I can finally see it again . . .

He's gone.

Clove is still probing the barman for info on who sent the drink while Peeta stares into the distance dreamily, messing about mindlessly with the umbrella in the glass. They didn't see Finnick . . . at all.

"Are you OK?" Clove suddenly asks, a frown furrowed on her face. I look back up to the empty doorway where Finnick stood mere moments ago, my mind whirling. Peeta sighs heavily and sticks the umbrella in his hair, his eyes drooping shut. We've barely been in here an hour and he's already tired. Jeez, he's not a clubbing person is he?

But the comfort that he's here with me and that he's safe is enough for me. I pull his seat closer to mine and let him rest his head on my shoulder. Clove continues asking the barman a million and one questions about the drink sender while Peeta falls asleep on my arm. But I can't settle again.

For the rest of the night my eyes keep flicking back to the doorway. Watching, waiting, daring for Odair to come back.

But he doesn't and I'm not sure if this fact comforts me or unnerves me.

I keep Peeta close for the rest of the night and keep a look out anyway, not telling him about what I saw because I don't want to scare him or make him freak out. Because if there's one thing for sure, it's this:

Finnick Odair is back. And he's back for one thing and one thing only:

Peeta.

_**A/N: Like Finnick's entrance? I quite like it ^-^**_

_**Please R&R, thanks! :D**_


	2. A matter of Therapy

_**A/N: Here's chapter two! ^_^**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

_**Warnings: Just sex really. You guys don't mind sex, right?**_

Chapter Two-A matter of therapy

_**Cato: His house: The next day**_

"You okay?" I ask, sitting on the sofa, comfortingly running my hands through Peeta's hair. Clove sits beside me on a chair beside the sofa with a notepad in her lap, ready to jot down any important notes. We've been doing this for a while now, proper therapy sessions for Peeta.

Clove came to us one day last year, informing us that there wasn't enough proof of a previous abusive relationship between Finnick and Peeta and that they might have to pull the plug on the case. Peeta claims that he's never seen me so angry before. Well, what was I supposed to do?! Katniss gave them the video of him getting freaking raped by that bastard that the Mafia sent her and I also handed over the photos he made his friend take in his apartment all those years ago.

And there's still not enough evidence?!

A full recollection of Peeta's past with Finnick was needed from Peeta himself if they were going to continue the case. Apparently they weren't convinced that Finnick would return for him (why, I have _no_ idea) but when taken into the station for a statement, Peeta ended up hyperventilating and couldn't do it. So, to make sure that the case keeps going and doesn't get closed, Clove and I have been doing therapy in a more comforting environment to try and get some more information from him to give to the Police Force.

I haven't told anyone about seeing Finnick in the club yet. I'm not going to panic Peeta and if I tell the Force about witnessing Finnick in the flesh then it'll some how get back to him which I don't want.

"Remember, anytime you get uncomfortable we can stop," Clove reminds him. She pulls a pencil out from behind her ear and rests it against the page.

"Where did we leave off last time?" Peeta asks, his voice warbling already. I smile softly at him and continue running my hands through his hair.

"You were going to talk about how Finnick treated you when he was your cilent," Clove explains. "Ready?" He takes a shaky breath and nods.

"So, how did Finnick treat you when you were his cilent?" I ask. "Take as long as you need." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, taking a moment to respond. When he finally opens his mouth to answer, the words rush out like water out of a broken dam, like they usually do, like he's been waiting to tell someone about it all for years.

"He was very dominant and used to get enjoyment out of causing me pain," he says quickly. He doesn't even pause for breath as he moves on to the next sentence. "It was sort of like a sub-dom relationship without the compliant sub. He'd hit me, hurt me, tie me up, gag me and"-he swallows hard-"punish me." Clove jots everything down furiously, her pencil gliding across the page as quick as lightening.

"You're doing great," I encourage, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"I still have scars from when he went too far . . . reminders of the past," Peeta says. "Even if most of them are just small, like how the bone in my right wrist sticks out when I move my hand from when he dislocated it because I backed away from him and he twisted my arm up my back." He holds out his arm and pulls his hand back to prove the point. My eyes widen when the bone does pop out. How did I not notice that before? "Or the bump on my nose from when I broke it running from him." I run my finger over the bump and sigh. I think it's a perfect little bump just because it's _his_ bump.

"Mind if I get photos for visual evidence?" Clove asks, taking the camera off the floor. Peeta nods and holds out his arm, pulling his hand back while Clove snaps away at the bone. She also takes a couple of shots of the bump on his nose. When finished, she looks unnerved to proceed with the rest of the session.

"What's wrong?" I ask her.

"I think the . . . _letters_"-she whispers the last word like an ancient prayer not to be spoken at random-"would be helpful in the case. Well, the proving that Finnick was abusive part anyway."

The letters. The scarred F and O on the nape of Peeta's neck and below his navel. Odair himself performed some District 4 tradition by cutting them into him when he was held captive in the Mafia headquarters last year. We've tried everything to get rid of the blemishes but nothing will work. It seems Finnick knew what he was doing when he carved his intials into him.

"I don't know Clove . . ." I trail off, biting my lip.

"No, it's OK," Peeta says, sitting up. "If it'll help . . ." He reaches behind him and pulls his shirt up and over his head. I avert my eyes as Clove brushes away the hair at the nape of his neck to get a clear picture of the 'F'. Even though the last thing I want to see right now is the scar that's not the reason I look away, this is _not_ the right time to get distracted by my shirtless boyfriend's toned torso.

"OK, nearly done," Clove says, turn around. Peeta sits down and pulls the top of his trousers down a bit so she can get a photo of the 'O'. When she stands back up she runs a hand through her hair. "This Odair guy is a real fucker."

Peeta scoffs in response. "Understatement," he says.

"Well, I better get this stuff put together with the rest. I think we've nearly got enough," she explains. "I think all we need to discuss now is what happened when you were captured." He nods stiffly in response and I pull his head to rest against my shoulder.

"You're doing really well babe, I'm proud," I say, kissing the top of his head.

"He's right," Clove confirms. "You're doing fantastically. I'll see you guys later okay?"

"Okay," we both say, waving as she leaves the house with the notebook and camera.

"I think I'm going to take a nap," Peeta whispers. I nod and kiss the top of his head again.

"Sure thing, sleep well," I say.

~xXx~

"CATO!"

My head snaps up from the book I'm reading immediately. The voice sent a chill down my spine and I wait for it, to see if it comes again. It does.

"CATO!" Then a thump. I bolt off the sofa and up the stairs. Finnick couldn't have gotten in could he? Could he . . . _could he?!_

"PEETA!" I yell back.

"HELP CATO!" Peeta shouts.

"I'M COMING!" I burst into the bedroom and a wave of relief washes over me when I see what the situation is. My shoulders slump forward and I sigh. "Peeta? What are you _doing_?" The blonde sits in the middle of the floor, rubbing the back of his head with an orange strip of fabric over his eyes and plugs stuck in his ears.

"CATO?! IS THAT YOU?!" Peeta yells, making me jump. I chuckle and crouch infront of him, pulling the plugs out.

"What are you doing Peeta?" I ask again. His head snaps over to the sound of my voice and he reaches blindly infront of him, palming my face. I take his hand and move it away before he pokes my eye out.

"I don't know!" he says. "It's a sensory thing I read about on the internet. Apparently if you cut off all your other senses then when you touch something you feel it ten times more heighted!"

"Why would you want to do that?" I frown. Peeta shrugs.

"I was bored. But I tripped over something!" he exclaims. "And I couldn't get back up!"

"Okay then, different question, why didn't you just take them off?" I ask. Peeta pauses and his head drops to his chest in defeat.

"I never thought of that," he sighs. I laugh. Only he would miss something so plainly obvious. When he reaches up to his eyes to pull the fabric off, I catch his wrist and stop him. He lifts his head again in question and I grin to myself.

Leaning into his ear, I whisper, "Leave it on, orange suits you." Peeta shivers as I lightly trail my finger down his arm. There was no way he can get away with looking so incredibly adorable blind folded without me doing something about it. "So, this sensory thing . . . does it just mean when you touch something, or can it also work when something touches _you?_"

Peeta's breath catches in his throat and his adam's apple bobs as he swallows. "I . . . I . . . don't know, it didn't . . . say . . . " He mewls softly when I kiss his ear and gently nip on the shell. The noises he comes out with are the most erotic things I've ever heard before in my life.

"Don't you think we should put that to the test then?" I ask. "I mean, it was your idea to try this anyway. Why not explore all possible areas?" Peeta nods furiously and I grin at his eagerness, placing kisses around his face to his mouth. He's getting better at fighting for dominance but I still keep an upper hand. Something tells me he perfers it that way anyway.

After making out for a while, I pull away with a string of saliva in close follow. I grab his hands and help him up to his feet, biting back a laugh as he stumbles on his untied laces. Once on his feet, he startles me by smashing his lips back against mine. I sigh into his mouth and back him up against the wall, moaning when he nibbles on my bottom lip. I let my hands wander free, roaming over his body while his roams over mine, going immediately to their favourite destination: his ass. Slipping a hand under his jeans and underwear, I teasinly ghost my fingertips over the hot flesh, reveling in the whimper he gives in response. Unable to tease for too long, I roughly squeeze it. Peeta gasps into my mouth and it dissolves into a moan when I tilt his head over and kiss up his neck.

"Catttooo," he purrs.

"Hmmm?" I hum against his skin.

"Stop fucking about," Peeta says breathily. "I need you inside me _now."_

I laugh and we quickly strip each other, hands groping where they please-Peeta's movements slightly clumsy and blind due to the fact he can't see-and I step away from the wall to lead him to the bed. After taking one step away from the wall as well, Peeta trips over his shoe and falls face first onto the bed. He groans in embarrassment and I grin, climbing ontop of his legs and leaning down over him.

"You really need to watch where you put those shoes," I tease.

"Shut up," he responds moodily, turning his head away. I turn his head back to face me and press my fingers against his lips.

"Stop being so moody and suck," I chuckle, stroking his hair as he wraps his lips around my fingers and sucks on them. I can practically see him roll his eyes behind the orange fabric. He swirls his tongue over my fingers painfully slowly. "Okay, stop with the teasing," I say, pulling them out of his mouth.

"Hey, I'm just doing as you said," Peeta says.

"Yeah, exactly," I reply, trailing my hand down his back. When I reach his entrance I slowly massage it open, listening to his moans like fine music to my ears.

"Oh fuck Cato," he moans, burying his face into the duvet. His reaction makes me grin and I insert a finger into him, brushing his sweet spot and laughing when he screams in ectasy. "Stop laughing at me you jerk!"

"Jerk? What are we"-I brush the spot again, making him groan-"school kids?"

"Please just get inside me before I bust an appendage," Peeta groans. I sit up and line myself up before slowly pushing inside him. We both moan at the same time and it escalates until we're both screaming in pleasure as I rock in and out of him. He finishes first, cumming into the duvet and falling limp as I reach my climax too. He uses what energy he has lift to shift his hips to urge me on and I moan, burying my hands into his hair for something to hang onto as the wave of pleasure hits me like a wonderful brick wall.

I roll off of Peeta and I wrap my arms around him, pulling him close to me as we both give in to exhaustion and fall asleep. It's not until I'm seconds away from sleeping that I remember that I haven't taken the blindfold off him yet . . .

When I wake up hours later, Peeta is still asleep so I don't try and take it off in case I wake him up. Instead I head to the bathroom and wet a washcloth to clean the mess off of the bed. I 'll probably have to stick it in the wash later but I should at least try and wipe some of it off before it stains. As I'm holding the cloth under the tap, my ringtone makes me clear six feet in shock. I forgot I left my phone in here last night . . .

Using my free hand to grab my phone off the windowsill, I open up the text message. From an unknown number. I slowly read the text, each word taking a while to sink in:

_I see you've been engaging in some 'kinky fuckery' Cato. Didn't think you had it in you. Then again, a blindfold can't really be described as kinky really, can it? You're too afraid of causing harm to have some _proper _kinky sex aren't you? Nothing like me. I'm sure you already know that though._

_Still, don't let me be the one to keep you away from your beloved boyfriend. I'm sure he's absoloutely dying to get you back in bed like the little slut he is. Anyway, if you want to have a proper chat, meet me at the abadoned warehouse by the oak tree tonight at eleven. I expect to see you soon._

_~F_

At the end of the text there's a snapshot of Peeta asleep. At first, I think it's an old photo, one that Finnick may have taken back when he was a cilent but when I take a closer look, I realize it's not. He's lying in the same position as I left him in moments ago: Tangled up in the sheets, on his stomach, the duvet stopping below the dimples of his back. Even though he's hugging his pillow and his face is buried in it, I can just make out the biggest give away of the exact time this photo is from:

The orange fabric around his eyes.

Finnick Odair is in our room.

I burst out of the bathroom to find an empty room, the only sound being the soft snores emnating from the sleeping form on the bed . . . and the wind as it whistles through the open window. Finnick Odair _was_ in our room but he's not anymore. He escaped. My phone beeps again and I immediately open the text message.

_Let the fight for Peeta begin Cato. May the odds be ever in your favour. You're going to be needing it._

_See you at eleven; _

_~F_

It's eight o'clock right now so there's three hours to kill before I have to meet him. I climb back into bed and sit beside Peeta, comfortingly stroking his back as if he was awake to see his stalker in the flesh. The thought of Finnick being in this room just moments ago while he slept so vulunerably makes my stomach churn and I scoot closer to him.

"I'm not going to let him hurt you," I whisper to him as his chest rises and falls in deep sleep, oblvious to anything that's happened. "I'd rather die." Peeta smiles in his sleep and I smile back at the sight.

I'm glad his dreams are happy.

Because it's certainly not happy out here.

There are worse games to play, and little does he know:

He's the prize.

_**A/N: DUH, DUH, DUH! HOW DID FINNICK GET IN THEIR ROOM? :O**_

_**Stay tuned to find out! ^_^**_

_**Please R&R :D**_


	3. Chatterboxes

_**A/N: Tired. Late here in UK. Going to pass out. Can't write proper . . .**_

_**I own nothing.**_

Chapter Three-Chatterboxes

_**Peeta: Asleep: Same time, same place**_

_**Dream: 14 years ago**_

"Sorry, I'm such a clutz sometimes," I mutter as the man continues to chuckle and helps me clean the scattered papers off the pavement.

"No, it's fine," the man says. "It's more my fault than yours, I was too busy on my phone to watch where I was going." He hands me the last paper and I smile my thanks, standing back up. I'm thankful he doesn't look at them. They're typed up information on some new cilents I'll be getting over the next week. "So," he says, gesturing to the papers in my arms. "Exhausted school teacher or aspiring novelist?"

I chuckle, trying to keep the nervous tint as unnoticable as possible. "Teacher," I lie. "Is it that obvious?"

"Nah, you're safe. I'm just really good at reading people," the man shrugs. I fake a relieved expression and shift the pile of papers in my arms over a bit. "I'm Cinna."

"Peeta," I reply. "I'd shake your hand but"-I nod my head at the papers and Cinna nods.

"It's okay Peeta. Pleased to meet you," he says.

"Likewise," I say back. "Well, I better get going, I've got some . . . marking to do . . . " Code translation: Go to Finnick's for his appointment and wonder why the fuck I haven't killed myself yet. "Thanks for helping me pick up the papers." Cinna smiles and nods before heading off in the oppisote direction to me.

"No problem," he says at last minute before continueing down the street. Well, at least there's some nice people in District 3. Every cloud has a sliver lining, every district has a handful of gueneinely considerate people. I sigh and look down to the end of the road where you can just about make out the top of Finnick's apartment building in the distance. Well, here goes nothing . . .

~xXx~

I sit with my back against the front door, wondering what's taking him so long. I don't know what I'm worrying about though, this is cutting into his own time. He's getting charged whether he's here or not. I think after being degraded and hung from his ceiling as a puppet I have the right to at least do that.

When Finnick does decide to grace me with his presence, he doesn't look happy. Shit. That can't be good. His eyes narrow when he sees me and a malicious grin spreads across his face. Double shit. I stand up, the pages still in my arms, and begrudingly follow him into his apartment. I watch him warily as he moves around the apartment, moving and tidying stuff before turning to me.

"Who was that man in the street?" he asks.

"Huh?" I ask, setting the pages down on his bedside table.

"He's not a cilent. I know _all_ your cilents and he wasn't one of them," Finnick says. I frown. What's he talking about? Or, more importantly, _who_ is he talking about? Hold on a minute . . .

"What do you mean you know all my cilents?!" I exclaim.

"Alma's a good friend of mine," Finnick says. "All I had to do was ask. But that man in the streets today was _not_ a cilent!" My mouth opens to respond and I can't find the words.

"You do realize that's classified as stalking," I reply. I internally wince at the way my voice warbles when I ask the question. The thought of Finnick stalking me actually scares me to the point that I feel myself begin to tremble. Steeling myself so that it doesn't show, I reach out and grip the edge of the bedside table until my knuckles turn white to keep myself anchored to something.

"And? I don't care," Finnick answers. "You belong to me, I need to know who else has the privelge of fucking you."

"It . . . it . . . ah . . . what?! I don't . . . I can't . . . understand what . . ." I stutter, stumbling over every word.

"And then I see you talking to this _guy_ in the streets and-"

"Who? Cinna?" I frown. "I bumped into him in the street . . . I dropped my papers and he helped me pick them up it wasn't . . . we weren't . . . Finnick stop looking at me like that, you're scaring me." There's a gleam of malice in his emerald eyes and his mouth curls in distaste. My heart beats so fast that I can hear it in my ears, making me worry whether he can hear it as clearly as I can or not.

"You're not getting it Peeta," he says. He takes a step toward me and I back up one away from him. "I don't think you fully understand the concept that you belong to me. Talking to strangers in the street like that."

"I don't understand how talking to strangers in the street can affect that," I answer. Finnick growls and I'm suddenly pushed against the wall. The back of my head aches from where it hit it and my vision slides out of focus as I blink to clear it.

"You're right you don't understand," he says, his hand twisting around my shirt and bunching it up. "What you need to comprehend is that you're different. You stand out, everytime you walk down the road everyone _notices _you_._ Not exactly in a sexual sense but because of your bright hair and pale skin you stand out." I know I'm different from the people here but it's not something I really thought about that much. I swallow hard and ignore how my toes are barely skimming the floor. "But I don't know who's thinking what when they see you and neither do you yourself. They could be thinking anything."

"You can't control what people think," I reply quietly.

"Sadly no," Finnick sighs, his eyes flicking down before lifting back to stare into my own. "But I can put you in your place when I think they're thinking something I don't like."

"You're just being unreasonable now," I say, grabbing onto his wrists for support as he slides me further up the wall. Even though I'm almost sure he can keep me up just fine himself, having a hold of his wrists is a weak attempt at preventing him from hurting me. "You can't just decide to that because you suspect someone is thinking a certain way! It's ridiculous!"

"Honestly," Finnick says, lowering me to the floor again. "It's the only excuse I can think of right now to spank you for misbehaving."

"Oh hell no!" I exclaim, struggling to get out of his grasp. Finnick grins and wedges his knee between my legs, pressing it against my crotch. I push against his chest to get him away from me. It doesn't work though as he grabs my wrists and smashes them against the wall. "Watch it you ass my wrist is still healing!"

"Don't be such a baby," Finnick says. He kisses under my jaw and bites it hard enough to draw blood.

"Finnick!" I yell. "Stop it!"

"Make me," he replies, biting my neck harder

"Leave me alone!" I shout. "Stop it! Seriously!" I look around the room for something to help me get him away from me. I don't care about how much he pays me anymore, I need to get away. I let myself go limp for a moment, letting Finnick think I've given in, and when his grip on my wrists loosens, I kick him in the kneecap. He yelps in pain and I push him away, scrambling away from him. The door gets closer and closer and I think I can actually make it. I could actually escape.

Something tangles around my ankle and I stumble, my face smashing into the door. Pain explodes across my face and I reer back, my hand flying to my nose in shock. I'm going to have to get rid of these god damn sneakers I swear to God they're causing more trouble than they're worth! I bump backwards into Finnick and his arms wrap around me to stop me from running again.

Unable to contain it anymore, I scream, struggling to get away from him. His grip doesn't give and I feel tears well up in the corners of my eyes-whether they're because of my nose or because of what he wants to do to me I don't know.

Finnick encloses my mouth with his hand, effectively muffling my screams. "Someone's been a bad golden boy hasn't he?" he teases. Even though I know no-one will hear me now, I continue to scream anyway, scrabbling at his hand as he turns around so that I'm facing the bed. He pushes my head down into the duvet so that I'm bent over before him. I turn my head so my cheek rests against it to loosen the pressure on my nose. I think it might be broken. Great, just what I need(!) "And I think he needs to be punished."

My blood turns to ice in my veins at his words and a pathetic whimper creeps out of my mouth. His fingertips ghosts over the top of my jeans and move down along my ass. His free hand holds both of my wrists above my head so I can't move. The first smack isn't even that hard-as if he's experimenting-but that doesn't last long as he growls, undoes my belt quickly and pushes my pants down. I feel a tear trickle down my cheek and I shut my eyes and wait for it.

_SMACK!_

_**(Dream ends)**_

I awake with a gasp. I'm coated in sweat and I can't see. I panic, wondering what's happened, before I remember that Cato told me to keep the blindfold on earlier. I pull it off, turning to find that Cato isn't beside me. On his pillow though there's a post it note. I peel it off and read the message written on it.

_Peeta,_

_Sorry for leaving so suddenly but I've got some errands to attend to. I'll be back soon I promise. If you have another nightmare, please don't get worked up. Remember I'm always here for you._

_Love you forever and always,_

_Cato_

I hold the note to my chest and try to do as it says, slowing down my breathing so that I don't hyperventilate again. Just away on errands Peeta, he's just away on errands. My ears ring with the crack of the smack, the ugly sound resounding around my mind. "Errands Peeta,_ errands_," I whisper to myself. My eyes flick to the clock. 11:00pm. My heart slows down and I lean back against the headboard.

I close my eyes and try to relax. If I can fall asleep again I'll be okay.

Normally the second time round there's no nightmares.

Normally.

. . . sometimes.

_**Cato: 11:00pm: Abandoned warehouse**_

His bronze hair glows in the dark like an orange lumionous highlighter. He leans against the oak tree, his hands stuffed in his pockets and an obnoxious smirk on his face. I quicken my pace, getting to him faster, and clench my fists, ready to beat the crap out of him. As if predicting what I'm about to do, he holds his hand up in a 'stop' gesture. Knowing that I'm not going to listen to him, he points at the gun in the hand of the arm leaning against the tree.

Of course he'd bring a weapon. How did I not predict that myself?

"What do you want from us?" I snap, my voice brimming with venom. I expect a chuckle, or a laugh, or a snide comment but it doesn't come. Instead Finnick shrugs.

"You know what I want," he answers.

"And you know what I'm going to say," I reply. "Up. Yours. Odair." Finnick grins and his clear amusment pisses me off. "Now how the fuck did you get into our house?!"

"I have my ways," Finnick shrugs. "Secret ways. Secrets I definetly wouldn't devulge with you. I only give them to the people I trust. Peeta knows a few. Not many, but a few."

"You _trust_ him?" I scoff. "I don't know how that works, since he doesn't trust you back and all."

"I don't need his trust. I just want _him_." Finnick crosses his arms across his chest, the gun pressing sideways against his side.

"But he doesn't need or want you," I reply. "He hates you. Are you so stupid that you can't see that? You scare him shitless." Finnick laughs and shakes his head, amused somehow by what I'm saying.

"Peeta doesn't know what he wants," he says.

"What does _that_ mean?! Of course he knows what he wants! He's his own person you know, he has his own mind. He knows what he wants and needs. And that's me, not you," I snap.

"What do I mean?" Finnick asks. "I mean that he has no idea what's best for him."

"What's best for him?!" I exclaim. "You are _not _what's best for him!" He considers what I'm saying, tilting his head from side to side as if weighing his options.

"If you look at it from a certain angle you'd think that," he finally says. "I do take enjoyment in causing pain. Especially to him. Those little whimpers and screams of pain he lets out when your nails dig into his skin or that brazen look he gets in his eyes when you slap him and he wants to pretend it doesn't hurt? Sexiest things ever. Then again"-he moves away from the tree and moves towards me until we're inches apart-"Everything Golden Boy does is sexy isn't it?"

"He's not an object," I say angrily. "There's more to Peeta than just his body!"

"Spare me the speech." Finnick rolls his eyes, twirling the gun around his fingers and fake yawning. "You don't think I haven't heard it all before? And I know there's more to him that just a body! Jesus Hadley, I'm not a complete animal!"

"But I bet it's the part you like best," I throw back. "Never mind his cute little quirks like the way he doesn't take sugar in his tea, or that he double knots his laces and can't sleep without the window open! _No!_ Finnick Odair just wants him to whip his shirt off!"

"You think I don't know all that?" Finnick laughs. "How do you think I got into your room in the first place?"

_Can't sleep without the window open._

"He brought it on himself. You'd think he'd have more sense than to sleep with it open," he continues. "Since there's that big tree by your house and I'm a brilliant climber and all. Seriously though Cato? An orange blindfold? Not very exciting is it?"

"It's better than tying him down and fucking him until he bleeds," I say through clenched teeth.

"Oh yes, let's all be soft pansies!" Finnick says in an high pitched voice. "Let's pick dandelions and be gentle with our partners! That's sickening. When I met Peeta he was a whore. An inexperienced one at that. Desperate to keep his family alive against all odds. He was ready and willing to do _anything_. Apart from that one time he broke his nose . . . But he was the one who spread his legs like the little slut he is. Still is. Face it Hadley, you're fucking damaged goods."

Then he's suddenly holding his jaw and my hand is clenched into a fist. I punched him. Finnick just laughs.

"Finally found the fire did I?" he chuckles. "Believe me you're not the first person to have punched me in the past over this."

"What do you mean?"

"All in good time." I glare at him and he smiles in response. "It's more fun than you think, you know. Imagine it: Our golden boy bound and gagged, lying before you. Completely at your disposal, giving you the complete freedom to touch him where you want without any of his whining and protesting-"

"Shut up," I snap.

"-Being able to bite that sensitive spot below his ear or tickle under his ribs to make those delicious hips buck without anything to deterr you. Making him sweat and beg with his eyes to let him go-"

"Shut up!" I yell, feeling my hand clench into a fist again.

"Oh grow up Cato, you know you want it too," Finnick says. He grins and turns on his heel, walking away from me.

"Where are you going?!" I shout.

"Everywhere and nowhere," he calls back as he disappears into the distance. "I'll be seeing you again soon Cato! And I'll definetly be seeing Peeta!"

"You asshole! You better leave him alone!" I yell after him. "Or I swear to fuck I'll kill you!" There's no reply from him this time, just the night wind whistling through the trees. I scream in frustration and kick the tree just as my phone bleeps.

_Cato? Where are you? It's nearly 12:00am, I'm starting to get worried. What errands are you doing exactly so late?_

_~P_

My heart melts at how worried he is and I set off back home. I'm not any use to Peeta out here anyway and I'm not helping myself very much either moping around outside.

_On my way home babe, see you soon_

_~C_

Peeta responds with a smiley face and I smile myself, holding my phone close to my heart as I walk home. I'm not going to let him find out that Finnick is back. It's better that way. I can't bear to stress him out more than he already is.

He's safer oblivious.

When I get home, Peeta's lying on the sofa. His head lolls over the edge as he sleeps, one leg resting on the floor while the other is tucked underneath it. He must have been waiting for me to come back. He looks so sweet asleep. I smile and pull the blanket that sits over the back of the sofa over his sleeping form and make myself a cup of coffee before going up to our room and shutting the window and locking it.

I go back downstairs and sit with my back resting against the sofa, sipping the coffee occasionaly. Keeping watch. Keeping him safe.

Guarding him the entire night.

_**A/N: I'm thinking of changing the name of the story to 'Rusted Gold.' Let me know what you think! ^_^**_

_**Please R&R :D**_


	4. The Bet

Chapter Four-The bet

_**Cato: Next morning: 8:00am**_

Humming. A song. It's unfamilar. What, who's humming?

My eyes snap open and I examine my surroundings. I must have fell asleep beside the sofa while keeping watch. That's not good. What use am I if I can't even stay awake while trying to look after Peeta? Running a hand through my hair, I sigh and get to my feet. The humming seems to be coming from the kitchen. I follow the noise and do I double take at what I see.

Peeta. In the kitchen. _Baking?!_

"Hey Cato," he says. The whole room is filled with the smell of baking bead and nearly every countertop is covered in flour. "Don't worry, I'm going to clean up in a minute."

"Uh . . . what'cha doing?" I ask.

"I dunno. Woke up early and found you asleep by the sofa, decided to get up and have a go at baking again!"

"Like when you were younger?" I trace my finger through some of the flour and examine it.

"Yeah, exactly," Peeta answers. "It took me a couple of gos to get it right again but for the past hour I think I've been getting it right." He crouches in front of the oven and peers inside. I look around and see various types of breads and cakes lining the flour covered counters.

"How much have you baked exactly?"

"Um, everything I can remember."

"Which is . . . ?"

"A lot. Here, try one, I'm certainly not going to run short." Peeta grins and waves over to a tray of the cupcakes. "No! Wait, hold on!" He rushes over to the fridge and pulls out a bowl wrapped in cling film. "Put some of this on it."

"Icing?" I take the bowl and peer inside it.

"Uh-huh."

I unwrap the bowl and set it on a spare space on the counter before grabbing a spoon and scooping some of it out. "It's pink," I state.

"What's wrong with that?" Peeta asks as he pulls more cupcakes out of the oven. "It's the only food colouring I could mix. Don't diss the pink!" " I shake my head and put some of it ontop of a cake.

"Out of all the colours in the world, it had to be pink," I sigh.

"Just eat the thing and tell me what you think," Peeta replies, ducking under the islet to pull out another cooling rack.

"I didn't even know I had all this stuff," I say as he places the cakes ontop of the rack. I take a bite out of the cake and almost moan at how good it tastes. "Holy crap, you made this?!"

"Uh-huh. It's quite simple really," Peeta says. "Well, once you get the hang of it . . ." I spoon up some more of the icing and lick it up without even bothering to put it on a cake.

"You know, Katniss was right about this stuff," I say. "Like the best sex I've ever had, in my mouth and in the form of icing."

Peeta laughs takes the icing bowl away before I eat it all and expertly swirls it onto each cupcake. "It's how I know how to paint," he explains. "Used to do the cupcakes at my parent's bakery. Birthdays, weddings, New Year's, Christmas, ectera."

"So, it's icing that made you able to paint?" I ask slowly.

"Yup. The icing was all the paint I had when I was younger." He flicks his wrist at the top of the cake to create a swirl on the icing before setting it down and picking up another one.

"Well, that's interesting," I say. Peeta quirks an eyebrow at me in question so I explain. "Just gives me an idea that's all."

"Oh? And what's that then?"

"You know, since I've already expanded my own artistic ability with paints maybe I should develop more and have a go with"-I swipe some icing off the spoon and dab it onto his nose-"icing, as well." Leaning in, I close my eyes and slowly suck the icing off his nose, making sure to flick my tongue over the bump. Peeta groans but lightly pushes me away.

"Don't start something you can't finish Cato," he warns.

"And who says I wasn't going to finish it?" I ask, grabbing his wrists and tugging him over to me.

"No one did. But we're leaving to visit Katniss and the kids in"-he gazes at the kitchen clock-"half an hour."

"So?" I ask. I take his earlobe into my mouth and lightly tug on it. Peeta's grip on my arms tighten and he leans into it momentarily before snapping out of it and pulling away.

"It means no time for shnanigans," he says.

"Not even a quickie?" I ask.

"Not even a quickie," he voices firmly. I pout at him but he just shakes his head.

Last night with Finnick has made me very sexually riled up after all the things he said. I'd be lying if I said they didn't have an affect on me because they did. It's the darker side of me at work, the part that desperately wants to break free and run amok. All I really care about right now is making sure he knows he's mine and not Odair's, no matter what the scars say.

"You're so sexy when you get all authoritive," I tease. I return my mouth to his ear, biting it before trailing kisses down and under his collar.

"Why thank you, now get off before-" I press my hand against his crotch and rub, making him mewl and squirm.

"Before what?" I ask, continueing to rub his arousal.

"Before . . ." he trails off and moans when I kiss below his ear. "You're such an ass you know that right?"

"So I've been told," I reply against his skin. I back him up against the fridge, pressing my body against his fully. "And a prick."

"An insufferable prick," Peeta moans in agreement.

"A big one huh?" I sneak my hand around his back and begin to single handedly working the knot his apron straps are tied in while the other buries itself in his hair.

"Gigantic." His head leans into my hand's caress and he smiles. "Humongous even." I get the knot undone and pull the apron up and over his head. I hold the garment up in my hand, examining it.

"I think I know what I want for my birthday," I sing-song.

Peeta quirks an eyebrow. "What? An apron?"

"_No_," I laugh. "I want you to wear it all day." Peeta's eyebrows furrow and he opens his mouth to ask a question before I swoop down so my mouth is level with his ear and whisper, "And _nothing_ else." He swallows and tilts his chin up high.

"Your birthday," he says confidently. "Anything you want."

A smile creeps onto my face and I kiss him hard. If I had of said that to him last year, he would have had a breakdown-some memory of his past getting dug up from the recesses of his mind causing him to snap-but now he has a mischievous glint in his eyes as he stares at me. I'am so proud of the progress he has made.

Peeta suddenly slips out of my grasp and weaves around the kitchen islet. "It's either that or the quickie now," he says.

"Excuse me?" I laugh.

"I don't want to give my stuff all away at once do I?" Peeta says, causally picking up another cupcake and icing it. "Can't let you think you can just sneak up on me and charm your way into my pants whenever you want can I?"

"Whhyy nootttt?" I whine.

"You're a charmer Cato, no doubt about that. You could get too dangerous for your own good," Peeta explains. "I'm . . . let's say . . . _taming_ you."

"_Taming_ me?" I scoff.

"Uh-huh." He doesn't lift his eyes from the cupcake. "Remember that thing Katniss told you? Looksee no touchsee? I bet you couldn't manage that until your birthday."

"I bet I could," I reply.

"Cato, your birthday is on Saturday. That's two whole days. You jumped me one day when I was gone for an hour walking Madge's dog."

"That was different!" I protest. "I was sexually frustrated!"

Peeta laughs and shakes his head. My eyes drop to the cupcake he's icing and I think of how deft and graceful his hands are as he ices it. I remember how I pin them above his head or against a wall as I attack his neck with kisses-

"You're doing it already aren't you?"

"Huh?"

He finally lifts his eyes from the cupcake and smirks at me. "You were thinking of something sexual weren't you?"

I scoff unconvincinly. "_No._"

"Cato," there's a warning tint in his tone that I shouldn't find hot but do, "What was it?"

"OK, I bet you I won't touch you until Saturday," I say. "And you'll see how much self control I have."

"What does the winner get?" Peeta asks.

"The loser, as their slave, for the whole of Sunday," I answer, looking him dead in the eye. Peeta raises his eyebrows and nods.

"Deal." He turns around and goes on his tiptoes to grab something off the top shelf. His shirt rides up and reveals a strip of bare skin and my eyes lock on it, my body already regretting the bet. He turns back around and laughs. "My eyes are up here Cato," he teases.

"Hey, if I'm going to do this for forty eight hours, I'm taking full advantage of the 'looksee' part," I reply, making a big show of raking my eyes over his body greedily. Peeta rolls his eyes and hands me another cupcake.

I'm going to win this. I can feel it.

~xXx~

_**Cato and Peeta's bet: Day One**_

Of course it had to be a heatwave today. Why wouldn't it be a heatwave today?

"It's so _hot!_" Katniss moans, trudging around the house fanning herself with her hand. A snide comment resides in my mind but I feel too heavy to voice it. My clothes stick to me with sweat and I feel stuck to the couch. Katniss' tank top is coated in sweat and she looks like she's about to melt into a puddle. Her hair is plastered to her forehead and I chuckle at every groan of irritation she releases.

"It's not that bad," Peeta says as he comes in through the front door. He doesn't have a shirt on and his jacket is tied around his waist. "Better hot than cold."

"I think I'd rather have cold right now," Katniss says, spinning around and gripping his shoulders and shaking them. "Make it cold Peeta!"

Peeta holds his hands outstretched as he says, "I can't! Do you think I wouldn't have done it already if knew how to?!"

"You should know how to use your own AC!" Katniss fires back.

"It's broken!"

Katniss whines and slides to the floor, clinging onto his legs. "I'm melting Peeta! I'm MELTING!"

"Katniss, no one has clinged to my legs since Jen and Josh were kids," Peeta says. "Please let go."

"It's soooo warm," she moans, sliding back on the floor and folding her arms. "I'm sweating an olympic pool here!" She flaps her arms in a comical fashion on the floor and whines again. I watch the muscles in Peeta's arms flex as he pulls Katniss to her feet and I swallow. Shit. Think of old ladies Cato, old ladies and grandmothers. Old ladies, grandmothers and deflating balloons.

"If it makes you feel any better, it's supposed to rain tomorrow," Peeta says.

"I is here!" Clove annouces as she bursts through the door. "And I bring ice cream!"

"Thank god!" Katniss exlaims, lurching forward and snatching a Cornetto from Clove's hand and pressing it to her forehead. She sighs. "Sooo cooolll."

"Looking good Peet," Clove says, tossing him an ice cream. "How's Cato holding out?"

"I'am here you know," I say through gritted teeth, my eyes shut.

"Aww, look, he can't even look anymore! How sweet!" Clove says.

"Shut it Clove," I snap.

"I'm confused, what's happening?" Katniss asks.

"Well," Clove says. "Cato wants to prove that he isn't a complete sex maniac so he and Peet here have made a bet that he can go forty eight hours without touching him. It's kind of funny that the heatwave hit just as you made the bet! Now we're all _hot_ and _sweaty_ in a big orgy of the flesh!"

"Shut up Clove!" I near yell.

"Ha! He's dying here! Look at him! It's killing him!"

I snap my eyes open to glare at my partner but I get distracted as Peeta brushes past my knees as he passes the sofa to get to the kitchen. I state at the kitchen doorway long after he's gone, causing the girls to laugh.

"Oh Cato, you look like a fish out of water!" Katniss cackles.

"Don't be assholes," I huff. Clove laughs and sits down beside me on the sofa.

"Just fantasize," she says. "That's what I'd do."

My phone bleeps and I groan as I move to pull it out of my pocket. The ID says _**FO**_. My eyes narrow and I open the message. It's a photo again, of Peeta. Moments ago he was outside watering the plants and that's exactly what this photo is of. I know it's a recent photo as I can see Katniss in through window. Below the photo is a message:

_Hot? Or not? I have to say that everyday tasks become so much more fun while watching Golden Boy do them right?_

_You know, this whole annoymous text thing is kind of fun. I have to say I'm enjoying myself. Kind of mysterious too because you don't know when the next one will come ;)_

_~F_

Clove gasps and I internally groan. I forgot she likes to peer at my texts. "That fucker is texting you?!" she shouts. I shush her but Katniss has already heard. I hope Peeta hasn't. Katniss snatches my phone off of me and scrolls through all the messages under _**FO.**_

"How is he doing this?!" she exclaims once she reaches the final one. She hands the phone to Clove and repeats the same thing Katniss did. She growls and hits me upside the head.

"Why did you tell us you idiot!" she snaps.

"Because he has a weapon and he knows where to find us!" I snap. "He got into our fucking bedroom Clove! He was in the same room as Peeta when he was asleep and he had a weapon! He could do it again you know only not be as leaniant on what he leaves behind!" Clove's eyebrows furrow and she opens her mouth to respond but shuts it quietly again as Peeta re-enters the room.

"Better get back out to finish watering the plants," he says. "They'll dry up if we're not careful."

We all share a paniced look and Katniss blurts out, "No! Here, let me do it. You've done enough today." Peeta frowns at her in confusion and ducks under her arm as she tries to block the front door.

"I think I can manage," he says. Before anyone else can protest, he's out the door. I lurch off the sofa and push past Katniss to follow him outside. My eyes search the woods but I can't see anything.

"I'm sure the plants are fine Peeta," I say.

"Cato, seriously? Look at them, they're drying up!" He continues to water the plants and I continue to scan the trees for any sign of Finnick. This is how the rest of the heatwave is spent: Clove, Katniss and I on edge and looking around, keeping a lookout for the attacker who might or might not come.

And he doesn't appear for the rest of the day. Something tells me this is what he wants. He wants us on edge. He wants us to panic when we hear a creak in the floorboards or a rustle in the leaves. We manage to keep Peeta oblvious, a feat that seems so impossible that we're surprised we did it.

But we did.

And we're going to keep doing it.

_**Peeta and Cato's bet: Day Two**_

I'm going to fucking explode. I can't handle this. My hands are twitching, begging to be able to touch him again. Every single cell in my body is begging to just give up and give into my needs. I can't afford that though. I'm not being his slave for a day. Who knows what he'll get me to do!

Peeta doesn't seem worried that it's ten minutes to twelve. In ten minutes it will be my birthday and if I hold out long enough then I can finally indulge in my lust. He sits in the middle of the bed, reading a book. He occasionally swipes the same strand of hair out of his eyes and a smile works its way onto my face every time he does.

Ten minutes has never felt so long. I lean back against the headboard and close my eyes. Ignore everything. Ignore the fact that his presence screams in my concious, demanding I pay attention and do something about it. I don't think my body has gotten the memo about the bet. Every time he turns a page in that book it's so noisy that I wonder if he's doing it loudly to irritate me or not. I causally glance at my watch. Five minutes to twelve. Nearly there.

I grit my teeth and shake my head. Five minutes. _Five._

Five.

Fifty.

Five Hundred.

What's the difference?

When it does reach tweleve, I'm near boiling point. I was prepared to just explode and push him onto his back and take him right there and then but now I think since I've had to wait so long, I'll take my time.

Still immersed in the book, Peeta is blind to everything going on around him. I slide behind him and run my hands along his shoulders, stopping at his neck and leaning my head against his.

"What are you reading?" I ask.

"To kill a mockingbird," he replies. A pause. "Shouldn't you be keeping your hands to yourself?" I grin and bring my watch round to his face so he can read the time. His face falls and he swallows.

I lean in to his ear and whisper, "I win." He shivers.

"I guess you did," he replies.

"Damn straight I did," I say, turning his head and kissing him roughly. Peeta groans when I slip my tongue into his mouth and take the book out of his hands.

"If you lose my page I'll kill you," Peeta mumbles against my lips. I chukle and single handedly slip his bookmark into the book and gently chuck it onto our bedside table.

We quickly undress each other-as if we haven't seen each other for years-and furiously make out on the bed. I slip my hand down to his entrance and work it open. Peeta moans and buries his head into my shoulder, whimpering in ectasy. He screams when I brush his pleasure point and smashes his mouth against mine to muffle it. I'm taken slightly aback as he wins control into my mouth and explores it. It's my turn to moan and my eyes roll behind my head at the feeling.

"Ready?" I ask once I reluctantly push him back. We're both panting, trying to catch our breath. Peeta's lips are swollen from our kissing and all I want to do is have them back on mine again. So when he nods that's exactly what I do, easing him onto his back and spreading his legs apart as I do so.

"Fuck," Peeta hisses when I enter him. The word sounds so strange coming from him, so dirty and bad and so, so hot. He buries his hands into my hair and clings to me tightly, placing desperate kisses all over my face as I begin to move.

He feels so good around me, I love how he feels. "You're so tight," I moan, nuzzling his neck and licking up his jawline. He tugs on my hair and groans, throwing his head to the side and giving me more room to kiss him. I hook my arms under his knees and wrap his legs over my shoulders, giving us a new angle.

"Cato-ngh-I'm clo-close." Peeta's hips rise off the bed and he gasps, his hands clutching the bedsheets tightly. His eyes flutter shut and his lips part in a groan as he cums, his semen covering the both of us. I grip his thighs and thrust harder as I feel myself get close to my finish too. My nails dig into his skin and I cum with a yell.

I fall onto of him, completely drained, and wrap my arms around him. "That was the hardest forty eight hours of my life," I mumble, kissing his neck. Peeta smiles and rests his head against mine.

"Tell me about it," he says.

I grin and kiss his lips again before falling fast asleep.

_**The next morning:**_

Something pokes my cheek, waking me up, and I groan tiredly. I bat whatever it is away but it just pokes me again. Sighing, I open my eyes, blinking against the light filtering through the blinds.

What looms over my bed though wakes me fully up.

"The things I do for you, I swear," Peeta sighs, shaking his head. He holds a tray in his hand with a stack of pancakes and a glass of orange juice on it. He must have been poking my face to wake me up. His apron is tied tightly around his body and he wears nothing else. Wow, I didn't think he'd do it. I sit up straight on the bed and he places the tray down in front of me.

"Wow, I feel special," I chuckle, plucking the flower he put in a small glass out and examining it.

"You are special," Peeta smiles. "And it's your birthday, which makes you even more special."

"You look hot by the way," I grin. He rolls his eyes and puts a hand on his hip, pointing a spatula at me threatenily.

"Behave," he warns. "This is akward enough."

"I don't find it awkward at all," I say, leaning back against the wall and trailing my eyes over every inch of him.

"Course you don't," Peeta sighs and points at the breakfast. "Eat now, whatever you wish later." He turns around and I smirk at the sight of his bare ass as he leaves the room.

"Aw, can't you just stand like that for a second?" I plead. He looks over his shoulder at me and shakes his head.

"Nope, sorry," he says. "Later. I promise. You can do what you want then." He turns back around and winks. "_Anything_ you want."

I watch him leave and take a piece of pancake and pop it into my mouth. Something tells me I'm going to enjoy my birthday this year.

_**A/N: Next chapter will be Cato's birthday day :)**_

_**Please R&R :D**_


	5. Cato's Birthday: Part One

_**A/N: Hey guys, sorry this took so long. Also sorry that this chapter isn't as long as some of the others but it was easier to split Cato's birthday into a two part chapter than one big long one.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

Chapter Five-Cato's Birthday: Part One

_**Peeta: Cato's Birthday: 12:00pm**_

"Oh my god!" Clove exclaims as she enters the kitchen. I sigh heavily, preparing myself for what I know she's going to say. "What are you wearing?!" She's holding a box under her arm that's wrapped up in pink paper. I know immediately that the colour choice is to irritate Cato.

"Yes, yes, I'm wearing only an apron, it was Cato's birthday wish, yada yada yada," I reply, tugging the apron down more. The garment is from when I was ten, so it only reaches my thighs, which just makes everything so much more difficult. "Say nothing unless you are prepared to accept the consequences of your words."

"I have no qualms with it," Clove says. "Just, you know, don't turn around."

"He better not! That view is only for me!" Cato calls from the other room. I roll my eyes and continue to tug on the apron.

"How much longer do I have to wear this Cato?!" I call back out to him. "There's a draft!" He pops his head round the door and is wearing such a shit eating smirk that I want to punch him in the face, birthday or no birthday.

"I said _all_ day," he teases. "Plus you look cute, so what's your problem?"

"It's OK for you Cato," Clove snickers. "You get a sexy view, I get a distrubing mental image, all while Peet's freezing his ass off. I think you're the only one with the good end of the deal."

Cato rests his head on my shoulder while I mix the cake mixture for his cake. "Awww, is poor ickle Peeta cold?" he teases.

"If you're not careful I'll get dressed," I reply. I squeak when he trails his hand down my back and squeezes my rear.

"I could warm you up if you want," he says breathily. He presses a kiss to my ear and I squirm, trying to concentrate on stirring the cake mixture.

"My eyes!" Clove mock cries as she sticks her finger in her mouth and pretends to gag.

"You're just jealous," Cato says.

"Uh-huh. You can practically see the green," Clove replies dryly. "But I'm gonna fly before you freaking jump each other." She hands Cato the pink box. "Happy birthday Catoire. Have a good one, you hear me?"

"I will Clove, I promise," Cato replies, hugging her. "See you later." She grins and salutes before practically running out the door as if she expects us attack each other as soon as her back is turned.

Once gone, I put the cake mix into a tin and stick it in the oven. "So what exactly do you want out of this?" I ask, gesturing at the apron. "Like, just for looks or . . . what?"

Cato looks thoughtful. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me against him as he thinks. I lean my head against his chest and sigh. I always feel so safe in his arms, like he can protect me from anything and everything. Even when he rests his hand over the 'F' on the back of my neck when we kiss I don't freak out anymore, because silly letters carved into skin shouldn't and don't mean anything.

"Is it wrong to say that I wanna fuck you in all possible ways?" he asks.

"Not at all," I reply. ". . . . Were would you wanna start?" Cato grins and takes my hand, leading me into the living room.

"You trust me right?" he asks.

"Of course," I answer, rolling my eyes. Ever since last year he's developed a habit of repeating this question a lot. Of course I trust him, I'll always trust him.

Cato grins and drops onto the sofa. "One of my biggest fantasies is to have you ride me," he admits. A lump forms in my throat and a dull ache settles there. I've never had to ride anyone before. Well, with a man anyway. It never came up. Cato notices my discomfort and smiles softly, holding his hands out and beckoning me over.

"I've never done this before," I admit as he pulls me into his lap so I'm straddling him.

"It's okay, I'll take good care of you," Cato replies.

His hands snake around the back of my neck and pull me into a kiss. His lips are so soft against my chapped ones and I groan when he expertly massages them open, coaxing my tongue out to meet his. I rake my hands through his hair and I slowly grind my crotch against his.

"Fuck," he hisses through his teeth. He slides his hands up my bare thighs and I shiver. I nuzzle my head into his neck, waiting paitently as he runs his hand down my back and slips his finger into my entrance.

"Oooohhhh goddd," I groan, pressing wet kisses on his neck. His skin smells like his cologne and take a long sniff of it, the smell working my senses like a drug. My hands fumble with his belt, pulling it open with shaky hands. Cato lifts his hips to help me push his pants and underwear off.

I lean back and frown. What do I do now? Cato slips his hand under my apron and wraps his hand around my manhood, giving me a reassuring smile as he strokes me. His ministrations feel so wonderful, my head falls back and a moan falls from my lips.

"Let's get this off you," Cato says, his voice heavy with lust. He unties the back of the apron and pulls it off me. He chucks if off to the side and rakes his eyes over my now completely exposed body. My face heats up in embarressment but Cato just runs his hands up my back and pulls me towards him. He peppers kisses all over my torso, his tongue licking between my abs and circling my nipples.

"Catooo." My voice is low and husky, just as heavy with lust as Cato's.

I wrap my arms around his neck and groan when he nips my neck with his teeth. His hand returns to my backside and carefully slips his finger inside. I moan again and squirm as he massages me open. Chills creep down my spine and I rest my head on his shoulder, breathing heavily as he continues to send shivers of pure pleasure down my body.

"Cato," I pant into his neck. "I d-don't know h-how to ride y-you."

"Sssh, it's okay," Cato says, cradling my head with his spare hand. "Just lift your hips up for a minute." I do as he says and lift myself off him. Cato takes his member and lines it up with my entrance. His tip brushes against my entrance and he grins when I squeak in anticipation. "Now just slowly lower yourself down." I take a deep breath and do as he says, lowering myself down onto his length.

"Fuck," I swear, biting my knuckles to stop an embarrassing noise escaping me.

"I know," Cato groans, his eyes falling shut in bliss. "When your ready, lift yourself up and lower back down."

I take a moment to adjust before pushing myself up and lowering back down. The sensation it causes is so amazing Cato and I both can't hold in our moans. As I push up and back down again, Cato reaches out for me blindly and pulls my face down to his. He miscalculates his first kiss and he pecks my eyelid, making me chuckle.

"God, I love the way your eyelashes brush against my face baby," Cato murmers, licking my jaw and blowing against the wet skin. "It's so hot." Responding with a groan, I rock back and forth on his lap, enjoying the glorious feeling of him filling me up.

I try and speed up my pace and Cato lifts his hips to help me. He grabs my ass and pushes me down harder on him. I used to panic when he'd get rough but I'm starting to enjoy it again more and more. In fact, I grip onto his shoulders and dig my nails into them to have something to hold on to because it feels so good.

"Like that do ya?" Cato teases. He tightens his hands on my cheeks and pushes me down harder. I moan my approval and nod quickly, gasping for air.

"Uh-huh."

When he's close to his climax he completely takes control and pushes me up and down, both of our moans echoing around the empty house.

"Ack, fuck it," Cato mutters. He hooks his arms round my back and whips around so I'm pressed against the sofa. The soft material of the plush chusions caress my skin and my eyes flutter shut. Cato hovers above me and spreads my legs further apart before roughly thrusting into me. My back arches and I moan with each thrust he does.

My hand slides down my body on it's own accord and grabs my manhood, running my hand up and down it. I throw my head back and continue stroking myself, moaning and whining. Cato's eyes widen and his eyes glaze over into a predatory gaze.

"You look so sexy when you do that," he says, thrusting into me harder while keeping his eyes locked on what I'm doing to myself. I feel exposed under his gaze, touching myself right in front of him, but I'm too close to stop now.

Cato cums first, emptying himself into me with a groan. He falls down beside me on the sofa, momentarily caught up in the afterglow before enclosing my hand with his, mimicking my movements and watching as I writhe under his touch.

"That's it baby," he whispers into my ear. "Shit, you look so hot right now I can't even begin to tell you what you're doing to me." His words spurr me on and my hand slides away as he takes control and clutches the sofa chusions as pleasure courses through me.

"Cato, I'm gonna . . ." I trail off with a groan when he flicks his finger over my tip. My hips rise off the sofa and I pant as I near my climax as well.

"It's okay," Cato murmers, sucking on my earlobe and gently biting it. "Cum for me baby."

I cum with a scream, my semen exploding over my stomach and partly on the sofa. I flop back on the chusions in exhaustion and breathe heavily. "Shit that was amazing," I gasp.

"Wasn't it just," Cato replies quietly, still grazing my ear with his teeth. I sigh in content and let myself bask momentarily in the bliss before looking down at the mess on myself.

"I better clean myself up," I say breathily. I move to get up but Cato smiles and presses a hand on my chest, keeping me down.

"Not yet," he whispers. I watch as he climbs back ontop of me and lowers his mouth down to my stomach. He laps every trace of my semen off my body slowly, grinning when I close my eyes and moan. When he's finished he lies back down beside me and wraps his arms around my waist. I smile and nestle my head into his shoulder.

"I love you Catoire," I smile.

"I love you too Peeta bread," Cato replies, kissing the top of my head. "By the way, I want that apron back on you when we get up."

"Sadly that will be sooner than you think," I sigh, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. "I need to check on the cake." I peck his cheek and stand up, grabbing the arpon and throwing it over my head again.

"Okay," Cato says, pretending to be disappointed. I look back at him and quirk an eyebrow at his faux sadness. He grins and slaps my ass. "Go on, hop to it."

"Watch yourself Mr," I warn, rubbing the slapped area.

"I'm sorry," Cato says in a childish voice, lowering his head and acting sad like a kid.

"For what exactly?"

"For . . ." He trails off. "For having a boyfriend with such a slappable ass." I roll my eyes and head off to the kitchen, ignoring the wolf whistle that follows. I think that's the best apology I'll ever get off him. When I return from checking on the cake he's still grinning. He pulls me back onto the sofa and wraps his arms around me so our faces are inches apart.

"Happy Birthday," I whisper, my lips brushing his as I speak. "I hope you got what you wanted." Cato smiles and frames my face with his hands, pressing his lips against mine.

"I already have it."

_**A/N: I was thinking of maybe starting up the next chapter teasers again, what do you guys think? Let me know!**_

_**Please R&R! :D**_


	6. Guess who, Golden Boy

_**A/N: To any new readers, I forgot to warn you, this story is dark. My previous readers would already know this but for anyone new, just letting ya know.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

_**Warnings: Kidnapping and distrubing happenings.**_

Chapter Six-Guess who, golden boy

_**Peeta: The pier: Cato's Birthday: 10:00pm**_

Birthday candles, how could I forget birthday candles? It's Cato's birthday, he'd obviously need candles for his cake. My head is away with it. Out of all the things to forget it had to be something as blindingly obvious as _birthday candles?!_

Droplets of rain drip from the sky and patter against the crowd, creating a peaceful melody as I walk along the pier to the corner shop. The sea clashes against the shore loudly as the wind blows it and I wonder how it can be possible for the weather to change so rapidly in twenty four hours. Yesterday it was a heatwave, today it has dropped to -10 degrees. I pull my coat tighter against my body and shove my hands under my arms.

Out of all the things that have distrubed me in the past, birthdays were the worse. Don't get me wrong I loved to celebrate other people's brithdays and sometimes my own-depending on whether it was just a family affair or if Katniss decided to throw a big party-but for three years there was one birthday I always dreaded.

Finnick's.

For the past year I've been doing my best to try to not think about him but I'm finding it more and more difficult. I don't know why; I have Cato to protect me, but it's like he's always in my mind somewhere. Whether it's nestled at the back where I can't find it or right at the forefront when I'm having a nightmare or a flashback.

Finnick had been a cilent for about five months before his birthday came around. It was something I had hoped to avoid. I thought maybe he'd stay at home in District 4 to spend his time with his family instead of hanging out in boring old 3 for it. Which I began to believe he would do as there was no sign of him in the week leading up to his birthday . . .

_**15 years ago: District 3: 10:30pm**_

A shiver runs down my spine and I pull my jacket tighter around my body. The clouds look heavy in the sky and I quicken my pace, not wanting to get caught in the rain. I'm just coming back from spending the evening with Cashmere. The woman still hasn't filed down the claws she calls nails and I can still feel the stratches down my back. Maybe I should bring her a pair of nail clippers next time . . .

The bright side of this week has been that there's been no sign of Finnick for the past five days. Maybe he's given up on me; maybe he's moved on to someone else; maybe I'm free from him. I've been meaning to ask Alma if he's dumped me. A thrill runs through me at the thought.

Footsteps echo behind me; splashing through puddles, scraping against the stones on the pavement, heavily following the same path as myself. A surge of panic rushes through me but I quickly smother it. What do I have to be afraid of? There's many houses up this path so therefore there's many people who'd also walk along it. A voice at the back of my head hisses, _'But at half ten at night?!'_ but I do my best to ignore it. My job and paranoia have began coming hand in hand lately so I've been quelling any overly paranoid thoughts before I bring myself to the brink of insanity.

The footsteps are closer; as if they're right behind me. Like if I stopped aburtly they'd walk right into my back. My heart picks up speed and I silently curse at my senses' bretrayal.

It seems, annoyingly so, I should listen to my senses sometimes more than my mind. Because they get closer, and closer, until they're practically breathing down my neck. I'm on the brink of cracking up and am just about to spin around and ask the person to back off when something hits the back of my head hard.

Stars explode in my vision and the ground takes off in a spin below my feet. I stagger for a moment before tripping over a rock or something, and heavily hit the pavement. It begins to rain as a pair of feet walk into my eyeline and drops of rain hit my face before everything slowly fades into darkness.

~xXx~

"Happy Birthday to me."

My eyes slowly open, nearly dropping closed again as they feel like they weigh a thousand pounds.

"Happy Birthday to me."

Who's singing? My vision is blurry and I can only make out shapes. What exactly happened? I try to recall it but it doesn't come to mind. I can't remember.

"Happy Birthday to _me._"

I shake my head and my eyes finally clear up. Shapes become sharper, imagers become clearer. I can see again.

Only I wish I couldn't.

Because looming above me is Finnick with a giant smirk across his face. My eyes widen in horror and he winks before finishing his song.

"Happy Birthday to me."

I open my mouth to yell at him but I realize I can't as a strip of cloth is tightly pulled against my mouth, cutting off my voice. Instead of an angry yell, a patheic whimper escapes instead. The fact makes me scowl and I glare up at him. What the fuck is he playing at?! He didn't pay anything and yet here I'am in his apartment?! This is like kidnapping!

"Guess who's birthday it is today," Finnick teases, kneeling infront of me and grazing his knuckle across my cheekbone. "I know I didn't discuss this with Alma or anything but I wasn't about to spend my birthday without my golden boy now, was I? I wouldn't have enjoyed it at all then."

I snap a muffled, "Go to hell," at him. He smirks and responds by sliding his hands up and into my hair, pulling my face closer to his. The bright green of his eyes nearly blind me as they bore into me, as if searching my soul.

"It's such a shame," he whispers, his lips so close to my own that they brush against each other when he speaks. "That you didn't know to get me anything. I'll just have to unwrap you instead."

I want to protest, tell him that he can't do this. He didn't pay anything so he doesn't get anything. Well, that should be the case if he didn't have me gagged on his bedroom floor. He goes for the zip of my jacket and slowly drags it down, the quiet sound the zipper makes resounding loudly in my head.

"I think." Finnick pauses, holding each end of my jacket apart and staring at my torso as if he can see through my shirt. After a moment, he looks into my eyes and grins. "I think this is a much better present anyway." Pushing the jacket off my shoulders, he watches my face carefully, examining my expressions. To annoy him, I stay as indifferent as I can manage. He knows it's difficult though, and smirks at me as his hands travel down my sides to grab the bottom of my shirt and drag it up. I'm forced to raise my arms to let him take it off.

When the fabric is over my face, he stops. I can't see what he's doing and begin to panic, my arms suspended above my head and my vision impaired. He places his cold hand on my chest and slowly moves it up and down, feeling my skin.

"What's someone as perfect as you doing here in loserville 3 anyway?" he asks, teasinly brushing his fingers through the hair below my navel. I growl at him as he takes the shirt fully off and tosses it away. "You're too special to get tainted by the weirdos around here."

I don't know whether he wants me to answer or not. He can't surely. No one can speak through a gag. Well, at least I think they can't. When his hands reach for my belt, I summon up all the knowledge I can remember from when I took kick boxing classes as a kid and hit the side of his head with my foot.

Finnick is knocked over and he grunts as he hits the floor. I grab the bedroom door handle and struggle to turn it, cursing when I figure out it's locked. Scanning the room, the only place of reprieve I can find is his wardrobe. Throwing the door open, I jump in and shut it quickly, pulling on the doorhandle as hard as I can to stop him from getting in.

"Peeta!" he yells. I jump at the sound of his voice and pull harder on the handle. When he begins to yank back I slide to ground so that I'm nearly sitting on the floor. "Come on Peeta, open up!" I'd yell back at him if it wasn't for the fabric around my mouth.

My arms grow tired and hot tears prick in the corners of my eyes. I'm not going to be able to hold on much longer, I can feel it. I'm going to let go. I'm going to let go. I'm going to let go.

I let go.

_**Present:**_

It's strange how the beginning of that situation is similar to now. My grudges over birthdays lasted a while after that but not long. It just took for Josh's first birthday to realize that I shouldn't let Finnick ruin everything for me.

When they first come, I wonder whether the footsteps are just my mind playing tricks on me. An echo created by my mind, intending to scare me off. I shake my head and walk on, determined to get Cato's candles before the shop closes. Come to think of it, I'm lucky he didn't make me go outside in the apron. Never mind being cold in the house, I'd fucking freeze to death out here.

Footsteps, again. My heart speeds up and my breathing comes uneven, so I turn around to try prove to myself that there's nothing there. And there isn't. Just the wet footpath with the pier railing along the side. The streets are silent except for the pitter patter of the rain and the crashing of the sea waves. I exhale and shake my head. See Peeta? You're being ridiculous. I rub my arms as a cool breeze bristles by and turn around.

And walk right into his chest.

My sense immeidately freeze as I bang straight into him, every fibre screaming on impact as if I'd walked into a brick wall. I open my mouth to scream but he plants his hand over it before I can, cutting off my voice and effectively muffling it. He turns me around so my back is pressed against his chest as he gets something out of his pocket. Panic ensues and I try to pull away from him, struggling for all I'm worth. Instead a tissue slides over my mouth and my eyes grow heavy. My heart beats in a frenzy as my vision goes black around the edges.

Warm breath brushes across my ear as my legs give out beneath me and I slump down into the body behind me. A voice whispers into my ear and my whole body seizes up in eerie memory.

"Guess who, golden boy."

And I black out.

_**Cato: His house: Two hours later**_

I'm starting to freak out now. I really am. Peeta left two hours ago for birthday candles. _Birthday candles._ Something's wrong. Something is terribly wrong.

"Clove," I say down the phone.

"Cato," Clove groans. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Clove, I'm freaking out!" I exclaim. There's a pause on the other end.

"What's happened?"

"It's Peeta. He's went missing."

"How long?"

"Two hours. He went out to the corner shop for birthday candles Clove. That does _not_ take two hours!" I yell in a panic.

"Cato, calm down-"

"How can I calm down!" I yell. "What if Finnick got him! Oh my god, what's happened?!"

A knock on the door stops my yelling at Clove short. I turn on my heel slowly and stare at the closed front door nervously. Who could that be at this time? It's not Peeta; he doesn't need to knock. Who else would be coming to my front door though at 1:00am?

"Hold on a moment Clove," I say, approaching the door slowly. There's been no more knocks and I wonder if it's a ding dong ditch type thing. I know we're in the forest, but the neighbour kids can be cunning when they want to be. My hand lands on the doorknob and I pause. What if it's a trap?

Fuck it.

I twist the doorknob and fling the door open. My heart drops into my stomach and my eyes widen in horror. "Clove, get over here now," I say into the phone.

"What? Why?"

"Just get over here!" I snap, hanging up the phone.

Peeta sits on the doorstep, naked as the day he was born. His ankles and wrists are bound together with a thin red thread that brutally cuts into his skin. His eyes flicked up to me in fear as soon as I opened the front door and they glisten in the light that streams in through the entrance to the house. A cloth is pulled into his mouth, gagging it open and cutting into the sides of his mouth. I notice he's trembling horribly-whether it's from the cold or the fact that he's terrified, I don't know- and tears streak down his cheeks as he looks up at me. It's when I notice what's stamped across his forehead that makes me finally crack. It reads:

_Happy Birthday Cato._

"Peeta," I whisper, crouching beside him and cupping his cheek. His skin is as cold as marble and he leans into my hand to soak in some of the body heat. I scoop him into my arms and carry him into our living room. He buries his face into my shoulder and weeps as I kick the door shut and hurry over to the sofa. When I tug on the gag, a trickle of blood runs out and drips down off his chin. I whip my hands away and use the hem of my shirt to wipe it up.

I snatch the scissors off the coffee table and snip the fabric off. Peeta flexes his jaw as I snip off the thread around his wrists. Once off, he wraps his arms around my waist and cries. The thread around his ankles soon falls away too and I sit down beside him, holding him close to me.

"What happened?" I ask quietly, smoothing his hair back.

"H-he came back," Peeta whispers, clutching my shirt. "And h-he did th-this for you as a b-birthday p-present." He lets out a choked sob and buries his face between the sofa and my shoulder. I cradle him in my arms, letting him cry, biting back on my anger and trying not to sob myself. How could he do something so horrible? How can he be so sick and demented?

Clove arrives a couple of minutes later, her hair suffering from bed head and a duffel coat is worn over her pj's. She bursts into the house in a panic, dripping from head to toe in rain. "What happened?!" she gasps.

"Finnick," I state.

"Oh my god!" she exclaims, running to us and crouching beside the sofa. "What happened?" she repeats. "What did he do?!"

"I-" Peeta stops short and breathes out a shuddering breath.

"I know it's hard but this could be used . . ." Clove trails off and bites her lip. " . . . as evidence. It could get us closer to getting him, it could-"

"Don't force him Clove," I snap.

"No, I can do it. He kidnapped me in the street," Peeta sobs. "He h-hurt m-m-me and t-t-touched me. Then left me on the doorstep for C-Cato to find because he said he wanted him to have a 'proper' c-celebration."

"Bastard," Clove mutters. "Are you okay?"

"Why would I be okay!?" Peeta snaps. "Do I look like I should be okay?!" I shush him and tighten my arms around him.

"She's just trying to be nice," I assure him. He looks at her again with sad eyes, his bottom lip quivering.

"I'm sorry Clove," he whispers.

"It's alright Peeta," she replies, patting his knee. "I understand."

"You going to stay here?" I ask her. She nods and sits down beside the sofa, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"This is sick," she mutters. I snatch the blanket off the back of the sofa and wrap it around Peeta and I. His skin is freezing and I rub his arms, trying to warm him up. I lick my thumb and try to wipe the stamp off his forehead.

"Sssh, it's okay now," I say.

"I-I'm s-so s-sorry Cato," Peeta whispers. "I ruined y-your birthday."

"No you didn't," I reply firmly. "_Odair _did."

Clove's head falls back and she snores, fast asleep again. Wow, some help she was. Peeta rests his head against mine and closes his eyes. I realize I'm tired to and bury my face in his hair, closing my own eyes and falling asleep myself.

Some birthday this turned out to be.

_**A/N: Did you really think Finnick would let Cato have a happy birthday? lol, sorry, that's not how it works :)**_

_**Back by popular demand, the teasers!**_

**"I don't deserve you," he whispers, his hand cupping the back of his neck, where the letter resides. "You're too good for me. I'm too messed up . . ."**

**"Don't ever say that," I snap, framing his face with my hands and resting my forehead against his. "It's the biggest pack of lies I've ever heard."**

**"He says he's going back," he says quietly. "He's coming back for me." **

**"No, he's not. I'm going to make sure of it."**

**"But Cato, you don't get it," Peeta whispers. "He's everywhere. He knows every move we make and always knows where we are. There's no escaping him. We're trapped."**

_**Please R&R! :D**_


	7. Crashed and Burned

_**A/N: So basically, shit goes down in this chapter. That's all I can say.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

Chapter Seven- Crashed and Burned

_**Cato: **_

Peeta is hunched over the desk in the study, marking some year seven art exams. I want to ask him how he is; if he wants to talk about what Finnick did. I can't bring myself to do it though. I'm too afraid of him breaking down on me. I couldn't bear it if he did. We're close enough to the brink of losing everything we have built up in the past year for him to break down now.

After what happened last night, Peeta just dove into his work. I'm not sure whether it's to help him forget what Finnick did to him or whether it's to keep his mind of the fact that Finnick is, indeed, back and isn't going to give up until he's got him back as well.

Perched on the end of his nose, is his reading glasses. They were perscribed to him six months ago when he began teaching art. I made a joke that we now match, only I don't need mine as often. He believes the glasses are another imperfection, something else that marrs who he is. I still don't understand why. Apart from the black rimmed spectacles looking incredibly sexy, to me personally they're just another part of him. I think after everything happening with Finnick, Peeta is convinced that anything he has done to him in the past or anything new that happens now is another marr, another blemish, another thing wrong with him.

It's heartbreaking really.

My hands travel up his back before I can stop them and I rest my chin on his shoulder.

"You okay?" I ask.

Peeta sighs and takes his glasses off. "I don't know," he answers.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't know," Peeta repeats, shrugging. "I honestly don't know what can be done to help." He stands up and moves round so we're standing face to face. He doesn't look me in the eye, they're casted at the floor as he speaks. "I don't deserve you," he whispers, his hand cupping the back of his neck, where the letter resides. "You're too good for me. I'm too messed up . . ."

"Don't ever say that," I snap, framing his face with my hands and resting my forehead against his. "It's the biggest pack of lies I've ever heard."

"He says he's going back," he says quietly. "He's coming back for me."

"No, he's not. I'm going to make sure of it."

"But Cato, you don't get it," Peeta whispers. "He's everywhere. He knows every move we make and always knows where we are. There's no escaping him. We're trapped."

I hate it when he feels this way. Of course we're not trapped. As long as I'm living and breathing, Finnick Odair will never have us trapped. Even if we have to spend the rest of our lives moving from here to there to escape him, I'am never, ever going to let that man make us believe that he's got us trapped.

"I can't help feeling he's still on me," Peeta says, looking over himself in disgust. "I can still feel his hands touching me."

"I'm never going to let him touch you again," I reply, pressing a kiss to his forehead. His eyes flutter closed and he sighs.

"He touched me in places that I only ever wanted you to touch since I was saved," Peeta whispers. "I want to be only yours."

"No matter what Odair tells you or makes you think, you'll always be mine and I'll always be yours," I tell him. I smile and smooth his hair back off his face. "Now let's take care of that feeling of Odair on you." I take his hand and walk him upstairs to the bathroom.

I'm not sure how long we stay in the shower for. I made sure every inch of his body got as much attention as the one that proceeded it, kissing and caressing every part. Letting him know that he's mine and not Odair's. Making him feel like himself again. It's when Clove knocks on the door that I become aware of the length of time we've spent under the spray of water.

"Hey, Cato? Is that you in there?" she asks.

"Uh, yeah," I reply. There's a pause on the other end of the door before Clove groans.

"Oh don't tell me you're both in there," she moans.

Peeta opens his mouth to answer but I place my hand over his mouth to keep him quiet. "Sssh," I whisper into his ear. He shivers.

"Nope, just me," I say. "Why?"

"I need to get in there. You gonna be long?" Clove asks.

"Oh, I dunno," I reply, grazing Peeta's ear with my teeth. He quietly moans. "I'm just getting started." My hand slides down his wet chest and I grasp his member, softly stroking him. He squirms against me and fights to keep quiet.

"Can't you just let me come in for a minute?" Clove sighs. "Our mums made us swim naked in the pool in your backyard when we were kids! There's nothing you have that I haven't seen before."

"Well, not _everything,_" I grin, continueing to run my hand along Peeta's length. He whines behind my hand.

Clove sighs irritabely. "Fine," she says. "Tell Peet I said hi and don't forget to wash behind your ears." Her footsteps fade away down the hall and I sigh, moving my hand off Peeta's mouth.

"You're an ass," he huffs, wiping some wet hair out of his eyes. I let go off him and he almost whimpers at the loss of contact.

"You love me anyway," I reply. Peeta leans his head back on my shoulder and smiles.

"Of course I do," he says. I return the smile and press a kiss to his lips, my hands sliding up his arms to rest of his shoulders. It's then I notice how tensed up he is.

"Fuck, I didn't know you were so tense before," I mutter, tightening my grip and beginning to rub. Peeta's eyes close and he sighs.

"Not really something you bring up," he says.

"Hey, anytime you get tense or stressed or anything, you come and tell me okay?" I say, kneading away the knots in his shoulders. "You don't need to hide anything from me anymore, you hear?"

"Okay," he replies, turning his head and kissing the side of my throat.

"Now are you tense anywhere else?" I suggestively run my hand down his back and stop at the small, inches away from his rear.

"Yeah, I don't think you can get tense there," Peeta answers, taking my hand and moving it back up to his shoulder. "But nice try."

"Dang it, so close," I grin.

"And yet so far," he replies.

The water from the shower is gathering up in the bath. The plug must have fallen into the drain at some point while we were in here. It laps up at our shins now, almost high enough to create a bath itself.

"This is getting high," Peeta says, noticing the same thing as me. "And we don't have a bathmat, it's kinda dangerous." He mimes slipping and breaking his neck but miscalculates and actually does slip. I quickly grab his wrists at last minute, when he's inches from hitting the bottom of the tub and breaking a bone, and lower him down to sit down on the floor before he really does hurt himself.

"You're a hazard, you know that?" I tell him.

"Tell me something I don't know." He leans back against the shower wall and looks up at me with one eye, the other being shut because too much water is dripping into it. "I've broken five bones in the past doing stupid things."

The sight of him sitting there, dripping wet and waiting, makes me instantly hard with lust. Kneeling in front of him in the tub, I take his legs and spread them apart so he's completely exposed to me. He watches me, aniticipating my next move. The fact that he doesn't attempt to cover himself up shows how far he's gotten in the last year.

I don't know why he'd cover himself up anyway, he's absoloutely beautiful.

Leaning forward, I press a kiss to his lips and bask in the moan he gives in return.

And that's when the water goes cold.

It's almost painful how cold the water is and it makes us both jump. We quickly clambour out and fall in a heap on the bathroom floor, laughing our asses off.

"I knew you were both in there!" Clove yells.

"Clove! Did you use the taps downstairs?! The water just went shit freezing!" I ask.

"No, I've been in the guest room," Clove replies. "I did hear something though . . . I thought it was just the creaking of the house." The statement makes me sit up and frown. What did she hear?

"Peeta, stay here a minute," I say. Peeta looks at me, his eyes wide in fear.

"Why?"

"Just, stay here a moment. I'll be back, I promise." I hand him a towel and wrap one around my body. I take his face in my hands and hold it inches from mine. "There's nothing to worry about okay? I swear I'll be right back." Peeta nods and I kiss the top of his nose before slipping out of the bathroom. "Keep an eye on him Clove," I say as I pass her.

The entire bottom floor of the house is erriely quiet. Each step I take across to the kitchen sounds amplified. When the taps in the kitchen are switched on when the shower is going then the water turns ice cold. Clove has been doing it for the past couple of months at this house whenever I was in the shower. That's why I thought she had done it . . .

The taps seem untouched but there's no way to determine that they haven't been turned.

"Cato?" Clove calls.

"What?"

Clove appears in the doorway, my mobile in her hand. "You've got a text," she says quietly. She hands me the phone. "It's from _**F.O**_." I grit my teeth. I should have known.

_Hey Catoire, how's things? ;)_

_I'm hoping you liked your brithday present, it took a lot of time and effort. And lots of string. Thought I'd interuppt your little shower interaction to let you know that I'm coming soon. Preparing that little gift for you last night has reminded me of how much I've missed possessing Golden Boy. _

_Till then, _

_See ya soon_

"What did he say?" Clove asks.

"He's coming," I reply. "Soon."

"What do we do?"

I rub the bridge of my nose and sigh. "I don't know Clove. I really don't." Clove folds her arms and sighs.

"Have you considered moving?" she asks. I look at her curiously. She looks completely serious, her dark eyes hard.

"What do you mean?" I question.

"8 is lovely this time of year. Or 5," she suggests. "Anything to keep you out of 12 for a while." I consider what she's saying. She has a point. Maybe if we get out of 12 for a bit, we'd be able to knock Finnick off course.

"Fine, we'll go back home to 2," I say. "Only for a while though." Clove nods.

"Cato?"

I look past Clove to see Peeta standing in the kitchen doorway, wearing a nightgown and looking very worried. His hair is fluffy from towel drying it but droplets of water still sit on his skin.

"What's happened?"

I walk over to him and pull him into a hug. Moving my head so that my mouth is close to his ear, I whisper, "He's somewhere close. We're going to get out of here. I need you to be calm for me babe, okay?" Peeta's arms tighten around me and he nods. "Pack a bag, we're leaving immediately."

The next half hour is made up of fumbling to get things packed and yelling at each other to hurry up. It's quite late so hopefully we'll be able to get a head start on Finnick before he catches on that we're leaving. Clove climbs into the backseat and Peeta and I get in the front. Peeta sits in the passenger side, trembling uncontrolably.

"We're going to be okay, I promise," I keep repeating to him over and over as I pull out of the driveway and take off down the road. "We can inform Katniss and your kids tomorrow that you'll be away for a bit."

"I'll keep a look out the back window for anyone following," Clove says, turning her back on us and clutching the car seat. I tell her to put on a seat belt but she just flips me off and stays the way she is.

"Why now? Why does he want to come now?" Peeta asks. He keeps frantically looking out every single window in the car, gripping the console and his seat so hard that his knuckles turn white.

"I don't know," I lie. "Maybe he just got tired of waiting." I don't want to tell him that the events of last night is what brought Finnick to do this. To decide that now is the time to take Peeta back. I put my hand on his knee and squeeze it reassuringly. "No matter what though, we're going to be okay."

A silence falls upon the car and we all sit there, not knowing what to say. Even though it's twenty degrees, Peeta's teeth chattering is all I can hear. He's terrified. He constantly mumbles to himself and checks with Clove every few seconds, wanting to know if she can see anything. At first we're okay. We get to District 9 within five hours. We'll be at District 2 in no time.

"I thought I saw something," Clove suddenly mutters.

"What?" I frown, trying not to push down on the brake. We have to keep driving. Have to keep driving. Keep driving no matter what.

"Out of the corner of my eye . . . I saw a light," Clove whispers.

"It's probably noth-"

I'm cut off as we drive past a turning and a car comes flying out, knocking right into the side of our car. We scream as it veers wildly out of control and suddenly flips over on itself. The whole world spins as the car tumbles round and round, over and over again. Glass smashes and shatters over my the interior of the car and the ceiling crunches inwards. My heart jumps into my throat and my stomach bottoms out and I feel like I'm going to throw up when it suddenly stops.

The car is on it's roof. The back of my head throbs horribly and there's a sharp pain up my arm. I'm barely concious, my vision sliding in and out from darkness to reality. Clove groans somewhere behind me and I reach out blindly for Peeta. My hand touches a scruff of hair that I know belongs to him. It's coated in something hot and sticky; blood. My heart stops for a moment before picking off into a rapid course of beating. The air grows thin and my breathing gets shorter before everything finally fades away into a peaceful darkness.

_**Peeta: **_

I feel Cato touch my head and I wince. My chest is heaving as I try to catch my breath but not enough air seems to be getting into my lungs. Something is crushing my leg. I don't know what it is and I don't want to find out. Basically, my coward self is too afraid to look. I'm trapped between the passenger seat and the console, my head stuck sideways, staring out the shattered window on my side of the car. What exactly happened? Who drove into us?

Rocks crunch under feet. Closer, closer, closer. At first I think it's maybe the person who drove into us. Maybe they're coming to help. But the footfalls are too slow, too calm. It can't be some panicked amateur who didn't know how to drive properly. It's someone else.

Two feet suddenly appear in my line of vision. I try to look up to see their face but my head hurts too much. Something wet slides down my cheek, I assume it's blood. The person attatched to the feet crouches before the wreck that was once Cato's car and in my blurry haze I see a mess of bronze hair glowing in the dark. Bronze hair . . . my mind is too fuzzy to process why bronze hair should worry me . . . I shut my eyes and breathe through my nose, savouring every piece of air that finds it's way inside me. Maybe this person will help us. Maybe they'll call someone to help.

A hand rests over my cheek and a rush of comfort floods me. It feels like something Cato would do. But that isn't right. Cato's unconcious in the driver's seat beside me. A thumb brushes over my cheekbone. Who is this person? Why are they just sitting here looking at us? Why aren't they trying to find help?

"My Golden Boy," the person sighs, almost audiably. My eyes shoot open, despite my senses' protests. Only one person has ever called me that. One person. My mind may be mixed up from a very likely concussion but I will never mistaken someone calling me that.

Finnick.

I want to push away from him, get him away from me, but I can't. I'm trapped in the car, completely immobile. He's still blurry looking but there's no second guessing his identity now, it's definetly him.

"Sssh," he whispers, smoothing my hair off my forehead and kissing a bump that's formed there. "Sleep." Sleep?! How the hell can I _sleep?!_ Does he really believe I can sleep with him here?! Despite the panic, my eyes slide shut from exhaustion, as if they're wired up to listen to whatever comand Finnick gives. He's going to take me, he's going to take me away and keep me with him forever. I can't just lie here and let him!

Finnick's hand returns to my cheek and he brushes his lips against mine. "I didn't mean to hurt you baby. I'm sorry. I'll return soon, once you're better." Blue lights flash behind my eyes and I hear a siren. "I'll see you soon Golden Boy." With one last press of his lips against my own, he's gone.

And I finally fall unconcious, completely terrified of what's to come.

_"No son of mine shall be a whore!" My mother screeches. She slaps me across the cheek and the area immediately stings. She came with my father on a surprise visit to 3 and caught me with Cashmere. She accused me of cheating on Katniss. Instead of pretending I had an affair, I told her the truth. Since she's my mother and all, I thought she'd understand._

_I really should have learnt by now that my mother will never understand._

_"He's not a whore!" Katniss snaps. "How dare you come out with something like that! About your son no less!"_

_"Who asked you?" Mother asks. "You're no better! Little Seam bratt, I bet you've had more visits to the Slag Heap than you let on."_

_"Don't talk to Katniss like that!" I exclaim. _

_"If your son hadn't of been so brave as to do this for us then you'd have no grandchildren!" Katniss yells. "They, and us, would be dead!"_

_"Maybe you're all better off that way," Mother mutters._

_That's the day I realize she really doesn't love me anymore._

_But then again, maybe she never did._

_~xXx~_

_I walk down the street with Jennifer perched on my hip. She giggles and pulls on my hair. She's been attracted to bright things lately: glowing lamps; luminous sticks; neon lights, the lot, so she has become fascinated in my hair when I merge with the hoards of District 3 people._

_"Okay Jen, sweetie, you're going to need to stop pulling on daddy's hair," I tell her, prying her chubby hands off the ends of my hair. She reaches out to grab it again and I stop, moving her onto my other hip and moving my head out of her reach. Her face crumples in hurt for a moment and I panic, thinking she's going to cry, when something catches her eye and she tilts her head to the side._

_"Look daddy!" she says, pointing across the road. I turn around and look across the street. I don't know where she's pointing but I try and locate it, my eyes looking everywhere. _

_"What is it sweetie?" I ask._

_"Orange!" she replies. "Bright, _bright_ orange!"_

_I frown and look again. This time I see it. There's a man across the road with bronze hair that almost glows as bright as mine in the streets of 3. I lock eyes with him for a millisecond and a chill runs down my spine. _

_Then my phone buzzes in my pocket._

_Turning back around, I take my mobile out and answer the call, keeping it at my ear by holding it between my head and my shoulder. Jennifer continues to coo about the orange man as I walk down the street, pointing and giggling._

_~xXx~_

_"You have a new cilent."_

_I look at Alma tiredly, hoping to God that she's kidding. _

_She's not._

_"His name is Finnick Odair. He's from District 4 and is a very important man, therefore a very big spender." That grabs my attention. Maybe I can finally get enough money for a couple weeks groceries. "He told me to send him our best and, well, you're our very best."_

_"I've been here for a month," I sigh. "How can I be the best?"_

_"You've earned the most. Therfore, you are our best," Alma explains. "It seems that the people of 3 enjoy diversity. Difference. Something not like themselves. Someone like you. And no one has complained yet. You, my dear Mellark, are the best we have."_

_I close my eyes and rub the bridge of my nose. "Okay, whatever. What time has he asked for?"_

_"9:00," Alma answers, delighted she has won me over. "Be there sharp. Finnick doesn't appreciate tardiness."_

_"Can I ask: What sort of name is Finnick? It sounds like a man's name." Alma frowns and folds her arms._

_"That's because he is a man," she says. _

_"What?!"_

_"You'll be fine," she grins, waving my worrying off as if it's a piece of dust on her jacket. "He's more of an 'on top' person anyway. He'll take control. All you need to do is let him."_

_I swallow down the lump in my throat. A man? How is that even possible? Can men even . . . you know, do that sort of thing?!_

_"Better get going," Alma says, tapping her watch. "His apartment is half an hour away from here."_

_I bite back my fear and gather my stuff up. Breathe Peeta, breathe. It's no different from going to a woman. No different. I get directions to this 'Finnick's' apartment and set off down the street. _

_Anyway, how bad can it be?_

_~xXx~_

My head's pounding. I can't think straight. Where am I? What happened? I try to lift my head but it's too heavy and the effort is too exhausting so I give up and just lie there.

"Is he going to be okay?" A worried voice asks quietly. I recognize it. It's Cato.

"Yes Mr Hadley, he'll be just fine," a soft, female voice replies. "It will take a lot to recover though. A lot of physio. I assume you're his . . ."

"Partner, yes," Cato says.

"Then he'll need you for support," the woman says. "Learning how to walk with a prostetic doesn't just happen." Prostetic? What does she mean?

"I understand," Cato replies.

"Not just physically. Mentally as well. He has lost something major. He's going to need you." What did I lose? What's major? Why do I need a prostetic? "I'll leave you alone with him for a while."

"Thank you Doctor," Cato says.

I feel his presence beside me as he sits down. The knowledge alone of him being here comforts me and soothes my worries. His hand encloses mine and the other cups my cheek. I lean into his hand and nuzzle against it.

"Peeta . . ." he trails off. I want to open my eyes, to see his face again, but I can't. My eyelids are too heavy.

"Cato," I murmer back. Just saying his name tires me out but it's worth the effort. There's a pause before he crushes his mouth against mine.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbles against my lips.

I just about manage to muster up the strength to ask why. Cato doesn't answer, he just kisses every available part of my face, repeating the apology over and over again. It's when his lips linger on a certain spot on my cheek that it all comes back to me. The crash. The feeling of being crushed to death. The blood running down my cheek. Finnick . . .

It's then I realize.

I can't feel my leg.

_**A/N: Uh-huh, I did it. I wanted to make a couple of things from the Hunger Games really happen. I'm been thinking of getting rid of his leg for ages now. I just needed the right way to do it.**_

_**Teaser:**_

**Tears streak down my cheeks. I can't do it. It hurts to much. My leg is on fire trying to support all my weight but I can't move forward without putting weight on the imposter they call my prostetic. **

**"Come on baby, you can do it," Cato coaches, standing across from me and holding out his arms.**

**"I can't," I groan. My hands grip the bars so tightly I feel like I'm going to bust a vein.**

**"Yes you can babe, I believe in you. It's just a couple of inches," Cato says. The pain is getting unbearable and I feel on the verge of collapsing. **

**Am I ever going to be able to walk again?**


	8. Visiting Hours

_**A/N: Hey guys! Here's chapter eight :)**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

Chapter Eight-Visiting Hours

_**Peeta: Hospital: The next day**_

Tears streak down my cheeks. I can't do it. It hurts to much. My leg is on fire trying to support all my weight but I can't move forward without putting weight on the imposter they call my prostetic.

"Come on baby, you can do it," Cato coaches, standing across from me and holding out his arms.

"I can't," I groan. My hands grip the bars so tightly I feel like I'm going to bust a vein.

"Yes you can babe, I believe in you. It's just a couple of inches," Cato says. The pain is getting unbearable and I feel on the verge of collapsing.

Am I ever going to be able to walk again?

Physio is hell. It's killing me. Cato has been supportive, and I really appreciate it. It makes me love him even more when he keeps cheering me on but I don't think I'll be able to manage it in the end. It's only my first session and I'm already considering just getting around on a wheelchair instead of enduring all this pain. The effort alone to keep myself upright has made me sweat so much I had to discard my shirt and throw it aside.

"It hurts," I grunt, my arms beginning to ache from supporting myself on the bars.

"I know it does baby but it'll get better I promise," Cato says. "You just have to walk."

"I can't Cato," I whine pitifully. "I'm gonna fall if I do."

"If you do I'm going to be right here to catch you." I look up at Cato, my eyes blurry with tears, and in seeing his soft expression, I want desperately to do this. For him. Gritting my teeth and sucking in a breath, I drag the fake leg forward and lean on it, experimenting how much weight I can put on it. The prostetic digs into my skin and I bite my lip hard, drawing blood. I lean completely forward to move my good leg forward and a shot of blinding pain shoots up my thigh. The pain causes me to crumple and my arms give out, slipping off the bars.

Cato catches me as promised, dropping onto the floor and holding me close to him. My hands clutch his shirt and I bury my face into it. "I'm never going to walk again!" I cry. Cato sighs and kisses the top of my head.

"Of course you will, it will just take some time," he mumbles into my hair.

"It hurts so much," I say, my voice high and squeaky.

"I know it does, I'm sorry baby," he whispers. "Here, let's get you back to bed." He hooks his arm under mine and helps me limp to the wheelchair I have to travel in until I learn how to walk. He helps me sit down and kisses me. I close my eyes and hang onto his shirt, not wanting him to move. He smiles and deepens the kiss, running his tongue along my bottom lip before pulling away and pecking my cheek. He wipes away my tears with his thumbs and moves around to the back of the wheelchair, pushing it down the hospital corridors to my room.

"I feel like such a failure," I mutter as Cato helps me get onto my bed.

"You're not a failure," he says. "You're doing great. Dr Cresta says your progress is amazing."

"What? I can hold myself up on bars?" I scoff. Cato kneels on the ground, unlatching the prostetic. I put my hands over his and look at him pleadingly. "Don't take it off, please. It's too ugly looking." He looks appalled at what I've said. I don't know why. The stump is ugly. There's actually a gigantic hunk of myself missing! How is that not ugly?

Cato ignores me and takes the fake leg off, propping it against the bed. I avoid looking at the missing part of me, staring at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears from returning. I feel him kiss the stump and a shiver runs down my spine. "No part of you will ever be ugly, do you hear me?" he says firmly. I can't answer because I know it's not true. He's just saying that to make me feel better about the stupid stump.

He rubs the sore spots created by the prostetic and presses a long, lingering kiss to each one. The action is so soothing, my entire body relaxes, unsure why I was so worked up in the first place. His kisses trail up to my inner thigh and I gasp as his breath brushes over my crotch. He smiles and snakes his hands around my back and pulls me close to him. He nuzzles his nose against the hair below my navel that's sticking out of the black shorts I'm wearing. "You'll always be beautiful in my eyes, okay?" he murmers, tracing patterns on my back with the tips of his fingers.

I run my fingers through his hair and nod. Cato sits on the bed beside me and rests his hand on the nape of my neck, pulling my head closer to his until his lips brush against mine. "I will always be here with you," he whispers. "You're always going to be beautiful and I'm never going to leave you." Framing my face between his hands, he finally kisses me properly. I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck. He nibbles on my lip and probes my mouth for entry. My mouth opens immediately and lets him in. I moan when he sucks on my tongue, my eyes rolling behind my head when he drags my bottom lip out between his teeth when he pulls away. He keeps it between his teeth for a long moment before sucking it.

"Cato," I moan when he drags his mouth up my jaw. "We should stop before someone comes in." Cato groans in frustration before kissing my temple and resting his forehead against mine.

"I love you," he says.

"I love you too," I reply.

He helps me into bed, pulling the covers over me and kissing my forehead. "I'm going to go visit Clove okay? Then I need to go back home for a bit and check on a couple of things. I swear to God I'll be back soon."

"That's fine," I reply. "Take as much time as you need."

Clove chipped a bone in her spine and broke her arm in the crash because she wasn't wearing a seatbelt. She won't be paralysed, but it will take her a while to be able to walk again as well. Cato was the only one who got out nearly unscathed with a cut up his arm and a scrape between his shoulder blades.

"I promise I won't take too long," Cato says before kissing me and leaving.

I sigh and lean back against the pillows. I'm still coated in a sheen of sweat but I'm too exhausted to try and have a shower. Cato will help me wash up later on anyway. I try not to focus on the spot under the quilt that shouldn't be flat but is. Where my leg should be.

I find myself drifting off to sleep and my fatigue welcomes it.

When my eyes open again, I don't know how much time has passed. It can't be too long, Cato isn't back yet. My eyes close again and I sigh. There's voices outside my room and I strain to hear what they're saying.

"I think Mr Mellark is resting right now," Dr Cresta says. "But you're welcome to go in and sit with him for a bit." I hear a muffled voice replying with thanks. The door opens and I pretend to be asleep. The door shuts again and someone sits down on the chair beside my bed. It's not Cato, I would recognize his voice a mile off, muffled or not.

A knuckle nudges my cheek, "Hey, wake up." My eyes shoot open and I fling my head to the side in shock, coming face to face with Finnick.

"Who let you in here?!" I exclaim.

"Dr Cresta. Nice woman . . . bit mad," Finnick replies."Still visiting hours babe, anyone can come see ya." He trails his eyes over my quilt covered form, finally landing where my leg should be but isn't anymore. "I'm sorry about what happened." I eye him curiously, wondeirng what his motives are.

He slips his hand under the quilt and brushes his fingertips along the sensitive skin of the stump. I stiffen and flinch away from him. He sighs and cups my cheek in his hand, his face inches from mine. I shrink back in fear. "When you're up and walking again, I'll take you back from that horrible brute Cato and you can be mine for real," he murmers, his breath blowing against my face. "I'll take good care of you."

"Don't talk about Cato like that." I want to sound threatening but my voice trembles. "And I'll never be yours."

"Nice to see that the intitals have scarred over well," Finnick says, ignoring me. His rests his hand on my bare stomach, over where the 'O' is.

"If you don't get away from me right now I swear to God-" I'm cut off as he covers my mouth with his palm.

"You look thoroughly kissed little kitten," he says. "Does your boyfriend not understand the concept of the right to ownership?" He curls his finger over a strand of my hair, softly stroking it. I glare at him, hoping that every horrible thing I want to call him comes across to him in the look. Something tells me it's his fault I'm here. It's his fault I lost my leg. It's his fault Clove nearly died in the backseat of the car.

"Don't you understand the concept of people wanting you to leave them the hell alone?" I snap, my voice muffled behind his hand.

"Oh baby, you've gotten fiesty haven't you?" Finnick teases. He removes his hand from my mouth and I open my mouth to swear bloody murder at him, but he captures my bottom lip between his thumb and index finger before I can. "You're not supposed to talk to your owner like that are you?"

"You're not my owner," I say through clenched teeth, my voice sounding distorted as he runs his thumb over my lip teasingly, not letting go to let me talk properly.

"No one should be kissing these lips but me," he says, almost to himself. He lets go of my bottom lip but replaces his fingers with his mouth and kisses me hard. He pushes so hard against me that I'm forced backwards onto the bed pillows. I shut my eyes and brace my hands on his shoulders, pushing feebly against him.

Something wet streaks down my cheek and I'm not sure whether it's a fresh tear or just the residue of one of the tears from physio. Finnick groans as if I'm doing some special thing to make him feel good before resting his hand on my jaw and tilting my head up for a better angle.

The door opens and shuts and I wonder if it's Dr Cresta returning. Oh my god what if she thinks I'm some whore who sleeps with two men at once? How will I be able to ever look her in the eye again? But there's a yell and a crash, and Finnick is no longer ontop of me.

I risk opening my eyes to find Cato back, pinning Finnick against the wall by his neck. His face is completely red in rage and his nostrils are flaring. I've never seen him as angry as this before. "You stay away from him you piece of shit," he growls. I swipe my knuckle across my cheek and catch the tear, deciding it was a fresh one. One caused by Finnick's lips on my own.

"Oh great, the brute's back," Finnick says sarcastically, his eyes rolling. You wouldn't think anyone had him pinned against the wall, close to punching his lights out. "That's just brilliant!"

"Fuck up," Cato snaps. "Before I snap your neck off!"

"In a public place? Not very clever Hadley," Finnick replies.

"I'll make it look like you tripped on your own shoelaces," Cato snarls. I'm kind of scared of this angry Cato.

"Oh yes, they'd believe that alright." Finnick scoffs and shakes his head. "Being impulsive is not something to be proud of."

"Can't you just leave us alone?" I ask. Fresh tears drip down my face but I don't feel the need to cry. I don't know where they came from. "Why can't you just let me be happy? I lost my leg because of you Finnick! My fucking leg!" Finnick quirks an eyebrow at me and smirks.

"Makes it harder for you to escape," he says. Cato growls and pulls him forward before hitting him back against the wall hard. I nearly wince when his head whacks against the wall.

"You're a worthless human being!" he snaps. "How do you look at yourself in the mirror?"

"By stepping infront of it and winking at the gorgeous man looking back at me," Finnick replies. Cato loses it for a second and slaps him.

"You're patheic," he spits. "How do you wake up in the morning and think this is what I'm going to do? I'm going to make an innocent man's life hell just because I'm jealous of the fact that he's made a life on his own. Without me."

"Because said innocent man is too weak to cope on his own to understand the fact that he belongs to me," Finnick replies. "If you're not careful, I'll send for the cops."

"What?!" I exclaim. "We should be the ones calling the cops!"

Finnick smirks. "Do you even know what District you're in Peeta?" he asks.

I frown. "No."

"Shut up," Cato hisses.

"You're in 4 babe," Finnick says. I still don't see the problem. "In the only District were those letters on that delicious body of yorus actually mean something. One word from me and," he clicks his fingers, "I could have you taken off Hadley and given to me just like that."

My stomach clenches and I suddenly feel faint. I grab the edge of the bed to steady myself with. He can't! He wouldn't . . . would he?

"If you fucking dare Odair I will fight to my last breath to make sure you die a slow and painful death," Cato growls.

"We can just leave Cato," I say. "Get out of 4 as soon as possible."

"Oh but you don't get it," Finnick grins. "Yesterday, the day you were admitted into hospital, was the day the people of 4 celebrate Posiedon's power. It's an annual event that comfort the citzens and convince them that they're safe from the God's hate."

"And?"

"_And_ part of the celebration is that for one whole month the whole District is put into lockdown. No-one gets in. No-one gets out. The only reason you guys were let in is because you were in a car accident. And I came with you as the person who rang the ambulance."

My heart drops.

"But that can't be true!" I exclaim. "I knew you for three years and you never once vanished for a month. You never failed to show up on the days of your appointments."

"Ah but my dear Golden Boy, I made sure to get out of 4 before the seclusion took place. I used to take whole month vacations in 3. Just to make sure I'd be there for you." Finnick winks at me and I immediately feel queasy.

"I'am _never_ going to let you take him from me again," Cato snaps angrily. "Even if it kills me, I'm going to make sure you don't win."

"Oh Hadley, how wrong you are," Finnick chuckles. Cato growls and raises his fist to punch him when Dr Cresta knocks on the door.

"You guys decent?" she jokes. The ironic joke gives us a second to straighten ourselves out. Finnick's crimes are only valid in 12, not 4, so Cato would be the one in the wrong if he was caught about to punch his lights out. When Dr Cresta enters, she wears a cheerful smile, blissfully unaware of what has happened in here. "Wow, it's like a little party in here isn't it?" she grins.

Cato plasters a fake smile onto his face and it's obvious that Finnick's is guenine.

"How are you feeling Mr. Mellark?" Dr Cresta asks.

"Okay," I lie. In other words, emotionally wrecked. Dr Cresta notices my teary eyes and frowns.

"Are you sure?" she asks.

"Uh-huh," I nod.

"Are you having mood swings?" she questions.

"Maybe," I shrug. "I don't know." She nods and jots that down.

"Okay well, visiting hours are nearly over and you look exhausted, so let's say our goodbyes, yes?" Dr Cresta smiles and leaves us to it. Finnick is the first to leave, shockingly.

"See you soon Golden Boy. Love you," he says, blowing me a kiss. I duck below the quilt as if the kiss is real and is coming to attack me. When I re-emerge, he's gone.

Cato grabs me in a fierce hug and I cling to him. "I'm so scared Cato," I whisper.

"I know," he replies softly. He pulls back and runs his hands over me, checking over every body part. "He didn't hurt you did he?"

"He always hurts me," I reply quietly. "Every single fucking time." Cato hugs me again and I feel a lump form in my throat as I rest my head against his chest, a clear sign that I'm going to cry. I can't cry though. Crying is for the weak. And I'am not weak.

"I love you," I whisper.

"I love you too," he replies, kissing the top of his head. "I'll see you tomorrow okay?" I nod against his chest and he pulls away, pecking my lips one last time before leaving.

I can't help feeling that my leg isn't the only thing missing from me when he is no longer beside me.

_**A/N: Uh-oh, spagetti 'o'! They're trapped in 4! Duh, duh, DUH!**_

_**Teaser:**_

**It's a matter of trust. I know I need to believe that he will never hurt me. He is not like Finnick. He will never be like Finnick. **

**I lean against the bar, wondering how this sort of thing works. I've never been a good actor but Cato insisted that it's not that hard. Easy for him to say. He's probably done this sort of thing before with loads of different people.**

**The bartender hands me a drink; a drink I didn't order.**

**"It's from the guy over there," he tells me. I look down to where he's pointing and my heart skips a beat when I see Cato sitting on a stool at the end of the bar. He tips his glass to me and I flush, turning away and smiling at the drink. I feel like an embarressed school boy again, blushing when the cool jock takes an interest in me.**

**"So what's someone as handsome as you doing in a dump like this?" I turn and start slightly to find that Cato has moved and is now leaning on his side against the bar. Heat rises in my cheeks at the way he's looking at me. Cato smiles and holds his hand out. "Cato. Cato Hadley."**

**"Peeta," I reply, taking his hand and shaking it.**

**How hard can it be to pretend we don't know each other?**

_**A/N: If any of you are confused then the teaser is a fun flashback from back when Cato and Peeta were growing together again. and becoming more sexually active with each other once more. To lighten the mood, ya know?**_

_**Please R&R! :D**_


	9. Nightmares and Memories

_**A/N: So this chapter is basically just a filler. There will be one flashback/memory then a nightmare sequence. Nothing big happens but there's a good bit of smut for you at the start ;) **_

_**Enjoy!**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing**_

Chapter Nine-Nightmares and Memories

_**Peeta: Last year: Capitol Hotel**_

It's a matter of trust. I know I need to believe that he will never hurt me. He is not like Finnick. He will never be like Finnick.

I lean against the bar, wondering how this sort of thing works. I've never been a good actor but Cato insisted that it's not that hard. Easy for him to say. He's probably done this sort of thing before with loads of different people.

The bartender hands me a drink; a drink I didn't order.

"It's from the guy over there," he tells me. I look down to where he's pointing and my heart skips a beat when I see Cato sitting on a stool at the end of the bar. He tips his glass to me and I flush, turning away and smiling at the drink. I feel like an embarressed school boy again, blushing when the cool jock takes an interest in me.

"So what's someone as handsome as you doing in a dump like this?" I turn and start slightly to find that Cato has moved and is now leaning on his side against the bar. Heat rises in my cheeks at the way he's looking at me. Cato smiles and holds his hand out. "Cato. Cato Hadley."

"Peeta," I reply, taking his hand and shaking it. "Mellark."

How hard can it be to pretend we don't know each other?

Cato smirks and points to the drink sitting in front of me. "The drink to your liking?" he asks. My eyes focus on it and I smile, very close to shaking my head. Of course the drink is to my liking. It's my favourite and he knows it. But he can't know it as we haven't met before.

"Uh-huh," I nod.

He takes a sip of his beer, his eyes never leaving mine. "So," he says. "You didn't answer my question. What's someone as handsome as you doing in this dump?"

I shrug. "The refreshments?"

Cato snorts, his fake facade momentarily broken, before he falls back into it. "Ah, a man of great tastes then?" he asks. Great save to my crap response.

"Kind of," I shrug, holding my glass between both my hands. God, I'm bad at this. Cato takes a step closer to me and I hold my breath as he leans down to whisper in my ear.

"Is it wrong that I have been unable to do anything but think about how good you'd look naked, Mr. Mellark?" he asks quietly. I clutch my drink tighter, trying to quell the immediate wave of lust that crashes down on me after he's spoken.

"I don't know," I reply, turning my head so our lips are inches apart. "Depends on whether I want to show you or not."

"Will you?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow at me.

"Buy me another drink first," I say, turning away. My mouth immediately feels cold being away from his but I shake it off. Don't give it all at once Peeta, don't look desperate. What? If I'm going to roleplay with him then I'm not going to look like the desperate one.

"You're going to be a tough one aren't you Mellark?" Cato says seductively.

"You bet I'am," I reply. Cato grins and orders another drink.

"I love a fighter," he says, resting his hand on the small of my back as he turns to face the bar. His hand is warm and seeps heat through my shirt, spreading it through my entire being. Despite the heat, I shiver.

Drink by drink, we get drunker and drunker. It's not like me to drink alcohol but sometimes something or someone pulls my leg and I end up getting completely hammered. Around drink number three we moved from the bar to a booth in a nice, quiet corner. The more drunk we get, the more handsy we get. Intoxication isn't something I experience everyday and I really don't know why. There's something slightly pleasing about the way our hands fumble to touch each other.

I sit with my back pressed against the booth seat, one leg slung over Cato's lap and the other trapped between his back and the seat. He mercilessly gropes between my legs and I let him, too intoxicated to care anymore about being desperate. "My my, Mr. Mellark, that's some package you've got here," he purrs into my ear. "So am I the first person who gets to touch you like this then?"

"Nope," I reply, my voice slightly pitchy. "I've got a boyfriend at home."

"Oh really?"

"Uh-huh."

Cato nips my bottom lip teasingly and grins. "Tell me about him," he says.

"He's amazing," I answer. "Smart, funny, has the best six pack ever. I love him-ah!" I gasp as Cato presses his hand harder against my crotch, obviously pleased with my words. "Shit," I curse as he lightly runs his finger over the seam of my jeans.

"If all that's true, what are you doing here with me?" he asks. He slowly slides his fingers under the waistband of my jeans and underwear. I groan and throw my head back in pleasure.

"I've had a rough past," I answer. "And he's scared of hurting me because of it. He doesn't realize that I belong to him and he can do whatever he wants with me." I lift my head and look him dead in the eye. "'Cuz sometimes a guy needs it rough."

"You want me to give it to you rough?" he asks. A hint of the real Cato shines through as he stares at me in disbelief. I did come to him a couple of days ago with a set of handcuffs and a black piece of cloth, asking for him to be rough again, but he couldn't do it properly. He was too worried about hurting me.

"I don't want to be treated like glass anymore," I state. "I can handle it."

Cato's eyes darken and he grabs my wrist, tugging me up and out of the booth and dragging me to the elevator of the hotel.

Once the door slides shut, we're at each other like animals. We bite at each other's lips and fight for dominance over the other's mouth. Cato, who normally spends a while gently caressing each part of my body before grasping onto anything, roughly grabs two handfuls of my ass. I groan into his mouth as he backs me against the wall and squeezes my cheeks hard.

We can barely keep our hands off each other as we hurry down the corridor to the room he rented out for the night. Once inside, I'm immediately pushed against the door. Cato rips open a couple of my shirt buttons and goes straight for my neck, kissing and biting: the recipe of a hickey. His hands head for my belt, having a quick feel of the bulge in my pants before undoing the buckle and pushing my jeans down my legs. I barely have a chance to breathe as he scoops me up into his arms and kisses me. He bites my lip when I try to fight him for domaince and I whimper in submission.

I like this Cato.

"You've got a very plump ass Mr. Mellark," he says, his hand sliding down my back to grab his favourite part of my body again. "Your boyfriend's a lucky man."

"Yeah, he is," I agree, closing my eyes and enjoying the feeling of him kneading my underwear-clad backside.

Cato sliding his knee between my legs and peppering kisses down my pressure his knee is putting on my crotch is almost unbearable and I whine. He grins at me and turns my body around so I'm pressed against the wall. His hands return to my butt and he slides my underwear off. He ghosts his fingers over the bared skin and mumbles sweet nothings into my ear. I'm so lost in his touches that I forget completely about how I told him I wanted it rough.

So I'm not prepared for the slap.

Compared to back when I was hit by Finnick, Cato's slap sends a jolt of pleasure through my body. Sure, it's stings, but that's what makes it even more arousing: The pain. I guess it's because I know Cato would never go too far. He would immediately stop if he knew I was in pain or uncomfortable.

He smacks my ass again and I yelp, the sound melting into a moan.

"You like that do you?" he purrs into my ear. I groan my affirmation and steel myself for the next hit. There's something so incredibly arousing about the fact that I'm vulnerable under his touches. He can do whatever he wants with me and I'll let him. I can tell this side of Cato has been dying to get out for a while now. Maybe ever since I got saved from the Mafia.

He spanks me again. And again. And again. And again. Over and over again until I'm getting used to the pattern and my moans and yelps climb into a gigantic crescendo in the hotel room. After a while, when I'm sure my ass is glowing pink, he stops. I'm panting like a fucking bitch in heat and am trying to catch my breath against the wall.

"Yes, that's it, pant for me little slut," Cato growls into my ear. The blatant insult sounds so dirty coming out of his mouth, I grow unbearably hot and pant harder.

In one quick movement, he grabs my backside and pushes his erect member inside. No prep or nothing. Oh fuck. It hurts. It hurts so good. My hands claw at the wall in pleasurable pain and my body bounces between Cato and the wall as he thrusts in and out of me. He grabs my hair and yanks my head back, sloppily attacking my neck. His lips enclose around my pulse point and mercilessly sucks on it.

"Ngh . . . ugh, _Cato!_" I cry. I reach behind him and fist my hands in his hair, holding his head in place and pressing him harder against my neck. Cato bites down under my jaw and I'm blinded by ecstasy as his teeth graze every available piece of skin.

"Oh _Mr. Mellark,_ you're so tight," Cato groans. The use of my teacher title pushes me to the edge and I fall, cumming all over the wall with a loud cry. My body slumps but Cato keeps me up, still relentlessly pounding into me. I press my cheek against the cool wallpaper and take pride in his animalistic groans as he reaches his own end.

When he does cum, he yells and hugs me tight, his semen filling me to the hilt.

As we stand there, basking in the afterglow, Cato presses softer, gentler kisses up the back of my neck. "I'm sorry I called you a slut, baby," he murmers. "I just got a bit lost in the moment."

"It's okay," I reply. "It was . . . fine by me."

"You liked it then?" he asks.

"Definetly," I answer.

"Thought you would." I can practically see the smirk on his face and I chuckle, leaning back against him. His arms wind around my waist and he nuzzles his nose into my neck. "I'm also sorry about hitting you."

"No," I say. "I liked it." He grins and swipes his lips along my collarbone.

"I'm glad then."

_**Peeta: Present: Hospital**_

I'm glad the first dream I'm aware of in the hospital is a happy memory. That time spent with Cato in the hotel was magical. It was nice to remember. Dr Cresta returns to my room shortly after I wake up with a syringe of blue liquid.

"I think I've got something to solve the mood swings," she says.

Shit, she still thinks I'm suffering mood swings. I should tell her I'm not before she injects whatever the hell that is into me. But just as I open my mouth to inform her that I'm not having mood swings, she has already plunged the needle into my neck.

"You might get tired and sleep for lengthy amounts of time but other than that, there should be no side effects," Dr Cresta informs me as the liquid seeps into my viens. She's right. I immeidately feel tired. "You'll suffer from nightmares as you sleep, it's just what happens. The medicine works on the part of your brain that controls emotions and fears. Maybe some unsettling memories too. It's a tough drug to stick out, but I think you can handle it Mr. Mellark."

I don't hear anything else, I'am too far gone.

**Nightmare Sequence:**

Hands grab my arms and force me to my knees. I panic and thrash out, not knowing who it is that's holding me down. "Is this him?" a forgien voice asks. I look up and stiffen when I see Finnick looming over me. There's a smirk on his face, as if he's proud of something he's done. He's not the person who spoke; it was one of the people holding me down on the ground.

"Yeah," Finnick says. "That's him."

"Do you have proof of ownership?" a different voice questions, persumably the other person.

"Of course I do." Finnick takes a step toward me, his eyes never leaving mine, the pupils dilated in the lustful expression I know all too well.

He rips my shirt from my back and grabs the back of my neck, pushing my face to the floor and wiping the hair away from the nape. "See that 'F'? Done by my hand." He clicks his fingers and the people holding my arms pull me up and flip me round onto my back. Finnick points at the 'O', whose top is just peeking out from the waistband of my jeans. "And that too. He belongs to me."

"No I don't!" I yell at him. His green eyes gleam with gleeful malice, clearly amused by my anger.

"We just need to check it out," the first voice says. Cold hands run over my torso and I feel tears welling up as a probing finger circles the 'O' as if checking it's real. The second person shoves my head forward so my chin hits my chest. They examine the 'F' and I shiver when their breath blows across my neck.

"Everything seems to check out," they say, pulling me to my feet and pushing me towards Finnick. "He's all yours." Finnick's arms enclose around me and I scream, hitting and kicking at him. He forces his lips against mine and whispers the word 'mine' over and over again against my mouth.

"No," I snap back, yanking my face away.

"Is he being difficult?"

I twist my head around and discover the two people are Police Officers of 4. They were checking out the intials as confirmation that Finnick claimed me. And that's why they're giving me to him. Because of the 'F' and the 'O' scars. Just like Finnick said.

"He's always difficult," Finnick purrs. "It's just another turn on." The officers nod and leave, leaving me alone with Finnick. "Hear that baby? You're officially mine now. All mine." His hands wander possessively around my body and don't stop. I scream, refusing to believe he's telling the truth.

I'm not his.

I'm not.

I can't be.

I won't be.

"All mine," Finnick whispers.

I'm beginning to get sick of that word.

~xXx~

I sit on a bench in a park. A younger version of myself sits in the sandbox, playing with Delly. The sight of the little girl with pigtails tied tight into the sides of her head, her rosy cheeks shining like apples with the visible dimples pierced into them sends a deep pang of guilt in my stomach. She's dead now. My childhood friend.

My mother stands close behind us, her hard eyes staring into the back of my head as if she wished she didn't have such a burden on her life.

The image slides on and Delly and I grow older. The sandbox disappears and so does my mother, a picnic blanket taking its place. Delly is crying. I remember this. We're fifteen and Delly was just dumped by her boyfriend. I sit beside her, patting her back, telling her it would all be okay. That she'd find someone else. She looks up at me, blinking back tears and smiles. Did she smile like that at the time? It looks so soft, so hopeful, as if she's expecting something. I return the smile and turn away from her, looking inside the picnic basket for something. And she looks disappointed.

Was this when she started liking me?

She reaches out when my back is turned, as if to touch me, but she retracts it back. Her hand drops uselessly onto her lap. I turn back to her and smile, handing her a can of coke. She returns the smile but from my place on the bench I can see it's fake. How could I not have noticed back then? It's so blantatly obvious now.

Something cold presses against the nape out my neck and I stiffen. It's the nozzle of a gun. "You couldn't tell?!" a voice exclaims behind me. Delly. It's Delly. "After this moment I tried as hard as I could to be obvious! But _no_ you never noticed."

"I'm sorry Delly," I reply. "I just-"

"And now I'm dead!" she yells. "And it's all your fault!"

My fault. My fault. My fault.

Delly screams an ear shattering screech that nearly bursts my eardrums and makes them bleed.

The gun goes off.

And the world shatters.

~xXx~

Cato hugs me close to her body and agressively attacks my lips with his own. I moan as he thrusts his tongue into my mouth and claw at his back, checking that he's here, he's real, he's solid. Everything feels so good that I don't know why I don't know why I'd need to check anyway, why wouldn't he be real?

He licks my jaw all the way up to my earlobe and takes it betwen his teeth, biting it rougly. Something's wrong, something's off, and I don't know what. His hands run up my sides and into my hair, pulling my head closer to him. I let myself get lost in his caresses.

It's when his arms wrap around my back and lift me up onto my feet that I realize what the problem is: I can stand and I don't have a fake leg.

Fuck, I'm still dreaming. Cato pulls my shirt up and over my head and I eye him curiously, wondering what sort of nightmare this is supposed to be. I'm in pure bliss. His hands wander aimlessly around my body as he kisses me again. Unable to concentrate on one thought at a time and completely blinded in pleasure, my head lulls back so far I can feel my hair brushing between my shoulder blades. Cato uses the oppurtunity to run his tongue slowly around my adam's apple. I groan and bury my hands in his hair.

"Cato," I mewl, tugging lightly on his hair. Cato moans and grabs my thigh, lifting it up to rest against his leg so he can press his knee against my crotch. My eyes flutter shut as I moan my approval to his pressing. "Fuck."

Cato brushes his cheek against mine and smiles. His hand travels down my back before palming my backside. "My golden boy," he whispers.

My eyes shoot open again and instead of Cato, there's Finnick. He grins at me and tightens his grip on my thigh, hiking it up further pushing me flush against him. I want to fight against him but for some reason my arms and legs won't respond to my commands to hit him, kick him, to do _something_ but stand there and take it.

"See? He wants me not you," Finnick says looking over my head at someone. I wonder who he's talking to until a mirror suddenly appears behind him and through it I see Cato, standing there stiffly, watching us. He looks betrayed. As if I wanted to be in Finnick's arms. Which I did. When I thought it was him and not Finnick.

"How could you Peeta?" he asks, his voice sorrowful and full of pain.

Finnick's hand wanders up to my throat and he squeezes, cutting off my voicebox. Cato continues to stand there, waiting for my answer. An answer that will never come if Finnick won't fucking let go of my neck. I try to speak but my voice comes out as a wheeze.

"He's discovered what's good for him," Finnick grins. He presses kisses up and down my neck, not caring that Cato is standing there watching. "That I'm what's good for him."

_No he's not!_ I wanna scream. _He's talking bullshit!_

Finnick presses his lips against mine, cutting off any hope of trying to tell Cato that it's all lies. I scream but I'm not sure whether it's in my head or out loud. Tears streak down my face as Cato turns his back and walks away. Away from me. Out of my life. I scream for him to come back but he doesn't listen. He just walks away.

I'm slammed against a wall and a pain shoots up my back as Finnick presses himself into me. I scream again, this time I'm postive it's out loud. I scream so long and hard that my throat aches and my voice turns pitchy.

The mirror shatters.

And I'm in darkness.

**Dream Sequence Ends:**

"Don't ever give him that again!" Someone yells. I open my eyes and see Cato talking to Dr. Cresta. His eyes are watery and I wonder why he's crying.

"Okay, I won't," Dr. Cresta replies. "Calm down Mr. Hadley, he'll be okay."

"Cato?" I croak. Cato turns around smiles in relief when he sees me awake.

"Peeta," he says, rushing to my side and taking my hand. "Are you okay?" I nod numbly, unsure of whether I'm telling the truth or not. "I came back because I forgot to fill out the forms for your discharging tomorrow and Dr Cresta told me she'd give you this drug that was going to make you live through your nightmares!"

"It's okay," I say. "There was only three."

"It's three too many," Cato replies, squeezing my hand. "She's never going to give it to you again, I promise."

"I thought you were leaving me," I whisper. My voice cracks and tears threaten to spill. "You were going to leave me with him." Cato's eyes glitter with tears of his own and he gathers me in a hug.

"It's okay," he whispers. "It over. I'm never going to leave you with _him._ I swear to god I never will. It was all a dream."

"I know," I reply. "It was just so real . . ."

"Not real. It will never be real," Cato answers, holding me tighter. "I promise."

And I believe him.

_**A/N: I'm going to do a Finnick POV next chapter. There's also an OC next chapter but he will only be used for that chapter and that chapter only. He won't become a proper character or anything. His name's Brian! ^_^**_

_**Teaser:**_

**"So, who's grabbed your attention now?"**

**I look up from my coffee and continue to stir. "What do you mean?"**

**"Someone's obviously caught your attention. You're different. Like all disconnected and weird," Brian says. "So who is it? Another hooker?" **

**"Yes," I reply. "But it's different."**

**"How so?"**

**I take the photo of Peeta out of wallet and hand it to my friend. He examines it carefully and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head. **

**"Understand now?" I ask.**

**"Fuck Finnick," Brian says, holding the photo right up to his eyes. I grin truimphantly and take a sip of my coffee. We sit in silence for a moment before Brian speaks again. "He's a hooker?" he asks. I nod. "Mind if I get in on that?"**

**I consider this. Even though Brian and I used to go out and having a threesome could have some serious repercussions, the thought of my golden boy getting attacked with two bouts of pleasure sounds very pleasing. And I know from experience that Brian can deliver.**

**"Sure," I reply. "Why not."**

_**A/N: If you already hate Brian, I wouldn't blame you. He's not meant to be likeable.**_


	10. All mine

_**A/N: Sorry this took so long guys! I've had a lot on my plate recently!**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**_

_**Thanks to SakuraDrops141 for helping me get back on track.**_

Chapter Ten- All mine

_**Finnick: Fourteen years ago: District 3 Cafe:**_

I don't know why I agreed to meet him. We haven't seen each other for nearly three years now. It was his idea though. He wanted to 'tie up loose ends' or whatever, I don't know. I don't mind talking to him, I have plenty of things I can flaunt in his face: my money, my job, my golden boy. It's him I'm more worried about.

Brian is a stereotypical member of three. Dark scruffy hair, chocolate brown eyes, smart as hell. If I'm honest, we were more of friends with benefits than anything else. Not that I'm complaining. He was a statisfying enough fuck. Nothing mindblowing like with Peeta but good enough.

I've discovered what it is about Peeta that attracts me so much. Other than being the most beautiful, gorgeous, sexiest man I've ever laid eyes on, it's the fact that he _doesn't_ want me that makes me want him more. I've had people gall over me and beg for it all my life, having someone who struggles and protests is much more enjoyable than having someone who is compliant and wants it.

"So, who's grabbed your attention now?"

I look up from my coffee and continue to stir. "What do you mean?"

"Someone's obviously caught your attention. You're different. Like all disconnected and weird," Brian says. "So who is it? Another hooker?"

"Yes," I reply. "But it's different."

"How so?"

I take the photo of Peeta out of wallet and hand it to my friend. He examines it carefully and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head.

"Understand now?" I ask.

"Fuck Finnick," Brian says, holding the photo right up to his eyes. I grin truimphantly and take a sip of my coffee. We sit in silence for a moment before Brian speaks again. "He's a hooker?" he asks. I nod. "Mind if I get in on that?"

I consider this. Even though Brian and I used to go out and having a threesome could have some serious repercussions, the thought of my golden boy getting attacked with two bouts of pleasure sounds very pleasing. And I know from experience that Brian can deliver.

"Sure," I reply. "Why not."

"It's weird," Brian says. "For once it's not about you." I scowl at him but he just grins. "What? Can Mr. Odair not handle not being the center of attention?"

"Fuck up Brian," I snap. Brian chuckles and shakes his head.

"I'm kidding Finn," he says.

"There can't be any repercussions from this," I warn, taking the photo back and smiling at the man in it.

I snapped this photo discreetly, when he was unaware of it. I had bought him for a whole night and took it the next morning. I had went to the shower and came back to find him sitting on the bed, his knees bent slight and his arms resting around them. The duvet was wrapped around him, dipping at the back, almost teasingly to stop below the dimples of his back. The morning light streaming in through my bedroom window set his hair alight, like glittering gold. The photo almost looked like it was professionally taken. Which is wasn't.

I really must talk to that friend of mine, what's his name? He takes professional photos for playboy . . . I wonder if he'd take a couple of hours out of his day to take a couple photos of Peeta for me . . .

"I don't understand how you do it," Brian says. "You seem to attract the most attractive of creatures like a fucking siren."

"That's the problem," I reply. "This creature doesn't like me. In fact, he hates me with a passion." Brian quirks an eyebrow and I shrug. "What can he do? His family are starving."

"I bet you're his best customer," Brian says. "You get very attatched."

"Oh do shut up," I answer dryly.

_**Present time: District 4: Next day: An old alleyway:**_

"Where are they?!" I demand. "I know you know so don't even bother trying to lie to me!" Brian chuckles and shakes his head. He doesn't seem to care that I have him up against a wall_ very_ close to beating the shit out of him. In fact, his calm demeanour grates on me.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says.

"Oh you know what I'm talking about," I snap. "Don't even pretend you don't because I'am not in the mood for messing around. I need to know what hotel they're staying at _now._"

"Fine," Brian sighs, rolling his eyes. "They're at the district's patheic copy of the Ritz. Not far down the road, beside the East West beach." I nod and let go of his shirt with a push. He quirks an eyebrow and smirks. "Why? Missing your old fuck buddy?"

"That's none of your buisness," I reply.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Brian puts forward. "He was a good one."

"Yes, well, that's in the past," I answer. "For _you_ anyway."

Brian laughs and takes a step forward, standing inches away from me. "There may have been many people you can intimidate Finnick but I'am not one of them."

"Oh really now?"

"Yes," Brian says. "When you dumped me you seemed to begin to think you could scare anyone into a cowering mess just because you started to fuck a wimp who fell apart everytime you decided to get rough. At least I knew how to handle it when you began to get into bondage and S&M."

"I didn't see you complaining when you came with me to see him," I reply, folding my arms and staring him down.

"That's because the kid was hot. Jeez Finnick, I hadn't had a good fuck for the best part of a year and when you showed me the photo of the boy I saw an oppurtunity and took it. I knew you certainly weren't going to want to have a go again," Brian answers. "Plus the kid wasn't bad. Was compliant enough when I waved that giant wad of cash under his nose."

"I'm going to claim him as mine," I state. "There's no need to be jealous Bri. Just because I wouldn't mark you with the penknife you gave me that night. I held myself out for the perfect man and I found him. I don't need you anymore. Sorry."

"I wouldn't want you anymore even if you offered anyway," Brian says. "I couldn't care less about who you 'claim.' I just feel sorry for Peeta. Poor guy is doomed to a life of pain and suffering."

"Glad you think so," I smirk in reply. "You know what they say, some people's paths are chosen-"

"Others are decided for them," Brian finishes gravely. "Be careful Finnick. You're treading on fragile ground."

"Just do me a favour and ring the cops. Tell them I'll be at the Ritz rip-off and need to report a claiming, okay?"

"Anything for you sweetie," Brian says with faux sweetness. He takes out his mobile and dials down the number for the police. I turn and walk away, heading to said hotel to meet the police.

_**Peeta: Same time:**_

I stare at myself in the hotel mirror, my hands gripping the dressing table to keep myself from losing balance and falling over. My prostetic is on but it just feels like a deadweight designed more to weight me down than to help me walk.

Even after having a shower I look a mess. Dark circles are marked deep under my eyes and look like I've smudged dirt under my eyes. The nightmares are coming more frequently and for some reason seem to be getting more and more realistic like the drug Dr. Cresta gave me for the mood swings is still working its way out of me. My hair is scruffed up every which way and is matted in places. In the reflection of the mirror, I can see my wheelchair pushed up against the back wall-where I kicked it when I pulled myself off it. I shut my eyes to block out the sad image that is now myself and fight back tears.

A set of hands rest on my shoulders, softly squeezing them reassuringly over the material of the hotel dressing gown I'm wearing, and I let out a shaky breath as Cato rests his chin ontop of on the hand sitting on my left shoulder. "You okay?" he asks quietly.

"No," I reply. "Everything's just so horrible."

"I know baby," he answers. I'm glad he has stopped trying to sugar coat things for me, telling me everything will be okay. There is nothing okay about the fact that we're trapped in District 4 for a whole month where Finnick could very easily come with the cops and claim me as his. "I'm so sorry."

"What's there to be sorry about? It's not your fault," I say.

"Yes it is," Cato sighs. "I should have stopped the car when Clove said she saw something."

"You couldn't have known," I say. I open my eyes and a single tear drips down my cheek. I still look the same. I didn't know what I had expected. To have opened my eyes and see myself looking different? Better? Well rested? No, because that would be impossible. "I look a mess," I mutter.

"No you don't," Cato murmers. "You're beautiful."

I laugh. "Yeah, sure. I'm _so_ beautiful right now," I say sarcastically. "Dark circles, matted hair and a giant hunk of metal I'm supposed to call a leg." I try to shift the prostetic to emphasize the point but I can't even do that.

"Yes, you are," Cato contradicts, placing a gentle kiss behind my ear. The gesture is so comforting that I don't protest. Even though he's wrong. "Dark circles"-another kiss just below my ear-"matted hair"-on my jaw-"giant hunk of metal you're supposed to call your leg"-a final kiss is pressed at the corner of my mouth before Cato tilts my head back so I can look him in the eye-"and all. You are beautiful, do you hear me?"

I nod and Cato smiles. He tips my chin up and kisses me on the lips. My body leans back into him as he traces my bottom lip with his tongue and softly nips it. A groan escapes me and Cato smirks cheekily into the kiss.

"How's the walking going?" Cato asks after pulling away and resting his head back on my shoulder.

"Not well," I murmer.

"You're going to get there," Cato says. He slips his hand past my bath robe and softly strokes the skin just above where the metal protestic starts. The action sends a shiver up my spine. "I believe in you."

"I know," I reply quietly. My arms begin to shake with the effort of keeping myself propped up for so long and I wince slightly at the ache that's beginning to settle in.

"Let me get your wheelchair," Cato whispers. He presses a kiss to my temple before fetching my chair and helping me ease down into it.

"I feel like a fucking invalid," I mutter as Cato wheels me over to my side of the bed.

"You're not an invalid," Cato scolds, lightly slapping my arm. I roll my eyes just as the door knocks. Clove said she'd wheel by later (she also has to travel by chair until her back has healed) so we can discuss what we're going to do about the whole, 'trapped in 4' situation.

As soon as he opens the door, Cato's face falls.

_**Finnick: Same time: Same place:**_

Hadley's face is priceless as he sees me on his doorstep with a bunch police officers behind me. He tries to fling the door shut again but I kick it back open, knocking him backwards and making him bang into a wall. "Better hold him back, he's going to lose his top when he finds out what I'm here for."

"Where the man you're here to claim Mr. Odair?" one of the officers ask. I scan the room for my beloved golden boy and find him sitting stock still in his wheelchair dressed in a bathrobe. I smile at him and he glares back at me in return. Ah, he hasn't changed at all.

"Claim? Oh hell no!" Cato tries to Peeta but the officers hold him back against the wall.

"Do you have proof of ownership Finnick?"

I roll my eyes. "Of course I do," I reply. As if anticipating what I'm going to do next, Peeta tries to wheel away as fast as he can. He's fast, I'll give him that, but not fast enough. I grab the chair handles and yank it backwards towards me.

"No Finnick, please don't!" Peeta cries as I pick him out of the chair. He tries to kick me with his metal leg but I quickly dodge it and throw him onto the hotel bed.

"Don't touch him you bastard!" Cato yells.

"Oh do shut up," I reply. Peeta attempts pushing himself away from me but the leg weighs him down and he cries out in frustration as the thing won't budge for him. He obviously still can't move it. I wave the officer who asked for proof of ownership over and pull Peeta up against me, holding his head against my chest to show the officer the 'F' that has scarred over on his neck.

"Surname?" the officer asks, not looking convinced. I roll my eyes and lower the blond back down onto the bed. He spits up at me and it hits my eye. Sighing, I wipe it away and untie the bathrobe. To my delight, he's in his underwear which makes everything so much easier and so much more enjoyable.

"Finnick, please don't do this," Peeta gasps as my hands run hungrily down his body to reach waist band of his underwear. Ignoring his pleas, I hook my thumbs into his underwear and pull the garment down slightly to reveal the 'O' which, like the 'F', has scarred over nicely.

"See, all mine," I say with a flourish.

"Okay Mr. Odair. Just bring the boy with you and we'll get the papers signed up," the officer says.

"Don't you dare!" Cato shouts. He knees the officer that's holding him back in the crotch and throws him to the floor before storming over to me. I duck under the first punch he throws and pull his arm up his back. I've learnt from my mistakes with this man and I've prepared for a fight with him.

"I'd also like to press charges against this man for assualt and trying to steal my property," I tell the officers. They nod and take Cato off my hands.

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" the blond yells.

"Yada, yada, yada," I reply as I grab Peeta and put him back into his chair. He tries to jump out of it as I push him towards the door and almost makes it before one of the officers grabs him around the waist and throws him over their shoulder.

"Oh my god Cato help me!" Peeta yells desperately. He knows it's futile plea but I'm sure he doesn't know what else to do.

"It's okay Peeta, everything is going to be okay," Cato replies.

"Yeah, keep telling him that Hadley," I say. Intercepting between their vision of each other, I take Peeta's face into my hands and press a firm kiss to his lips. My face dampens and my lips rid him of his tears as I kiss them all away. "Isn't it wonderful baby? You're all mine now. Come on we've got papers to sign."

The officer carrying Peeta and I leave Cato in the hotel room with the other police I brought with me. They'll must likely sling him in jail, only to be freed by bail. Peeta continues to scream the man's name long after we've left the hotel.

~xXx~

"You honestly think I'm going to sign that?" Peeta asks warily. The paper sits infront of him on the table and he clenches his fist around the pen the offciater gave him. His wheelchair is in a different room so he can't attempt to escape.

"You have no choice in the matter," I reply. "Either you do it by your own will or you do it by force."

"I'am not signing that thing by my own will," he answers defiantly, chucking the pen across the table. It comes to a stop in front of me and I sigh. Fights right to the end, that's my golden boy alright. I smile and stand up, moving around the table to stand behind him.

"You do know how to sign your name right?" I ask, enclosing my arms around him from me behind and taking his hand into mine, inserting the pen into it.

"Obviously," Peeta answers dryly, tensing up at my touch. He yelps as I grip his hand tighter and force the pen to spell out his name. And then, as if by magic, the contract reads:

_Peeta Mellark._

"And you're all mine," I murmer into his ear. Peeta chokes on a sob and breaks down as he realizes the truth of it. He puts in head into his hands repeats a mantra of 'Not reals' over and over again. I can't help smiling at how sweet it is.

Because it's real.

He's all mine.

_**A/N: Duh, duh, duh! Sorry again for the long wait!**_

_**Next chapter is going to be sort of like the history of Finnick and Peeta's past so stay tuned. I promise it won't take as long as it did for this chapter!**_

_**Teaser:**_

_**"You know what's intrigueing about lust?" he asked. I watched him warily as he sat down across from me and took my hands into his. **_

_**"What?" I asked. **_

_**"It can overcome you anytime, anywhere and give you the oppurunity to explore the human body without trepitation," Finnick explained. I wrenched my hands away from him and he smiled. "I ordered you again because of one soul reason. No matter how you look, you always give me an instant hard on."**_

_**"Oh so romantic," I said sarcastically. I gasped as he pressed his hand against my jean clad crotch and squeezed. **_

_**"And," Finnick purred, groping my manhood mercilessly and listening to me gasp and groan. "I think I might become a regular."**_

_**Please R&R! :D**_


	11. Circulation of the mind

_**A/N: So I've altered this chapter slightly as I couldn't do a whole chapter on Finnick and Peeta's past without running into numerous brick walls. So when I get ideas there will be just random flashbacks as usual. **_

_**Warnings: Bondage (Handcuffs is bondage, right?), sexual content without consent and violence.**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games or it's characters.**_

_*** I have a question for you guys about the future of this fic so be sure to read the bottom A/N!**_

Chapter Eleven- Circulation of the mind

_**Peeta: District 3: Fifteen years ago: Coin's trafficking headquarters:**_

"You have a new cilent."

I looked at Alma tiredly, hoping to God that she's kidding.

She's wasn't.

"His name is Finnick Odair. He's from District 4 and is very important, therefore a very big spender." That grabbed my attention. Maybe I could finally get enough money for a couple weeks' groceries. "He told me to send him our best and, well, you're our very best."

"I've been here for a month," I sighed. "How can I be the best?"

"You've earned the most. Therfore, you are our best," Alma explained. "It seems that the people of 3 enjoy diversity. Difference. Something not like themselves. Someone like you. And no one has complained yet. You, my dear Mellark, are the best we have."

I closed my eyes and rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Okay, whatever. What time have they asked for?"

"9:00," Alma answered, delighted she has won me over. "Be there sharp. Finnick doesn't appreciate tardiness."

"Can I ask: What sort of name is Finnick? It sounds like a man's name." Alma frowned and folded her arms.

"That's because he is a man," she said.

"What?!"

"You'll be fine," she grinned, waving my worrying off as if it's a piece of dust on her jacket. "He's more of an 'on top' person anyway. He'll take control. All you need to do is let him."

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. A man? How is that even possible? Can men even . . . you know, do that sort of thing?!

"Better get going," Alma said, tapping her watch. "His apartment is half an hour away from here."

I bit back my fear and gathered my stuff up. Breathe Peeta, breathe. It's no different from going to a woman. No different. I got directions to this 'Finnick's' apartment and set off down the street.

Anyway, how bad can it be?

Apparently, very bad.

I arrived at his apartment right on time and knocked on the door just as the clock struck nine. A man with bright bronze hair answered. He looked almost taken aback to see me there and I wondered why. "Come in," he said in almost disbelief. I did as he said and entered his apartment. It wasn't much, just a large room with a bed and an en suite bathroom. He obviously doesn't live here. On a buisness trip maybe? From another District maybe since his hair also doesn't match that the residents of District 3.

Little did I know I was going to see much more of this small apartment than I'd first thought. It was going to become my own personal torture chamber.

"Are you Finnick?" I asked.

"I'am," the man confirmed. "What's your name?"

"Peeta," I answered curtly. "What is it you want out of tonight?" It was a standard question, something I always had to ask. I had to know exactly what I had to do.

Finnick's eyes raked up and down my body and I felt my cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Of course people had done this to me in the past but I'd never seemed to have adjusted to it. He seemed happy with what he saw and I shoved my hands into my pockets sheepishly.

"What do you offer?" Finnick finally asked. I swallowed hard and tried to call up to memory the list of things Coin always reminded me to say. Normally I'd have been able to make it through it no bother but something about the way this man stared at me made my mind go blank.

I heard Jennifer's pained cries as she begged to be fed in my mind and saw Katniss' hollow cheeks as she cradled her baby bump on the sofa, silent tears falling from her face as she worried about the welfare of our unborn baby. He should be big enough now to be capable of kicking and he hasn't done it yet. At all.

I needed the money desperately.

"Anything," I answered. Finnick's eyebrows shot to his hairline and he looked impressed.

"I'd think carefully before you say something like that to me," he said.

"I'm serious," I said. "Anything. I can't afford to be picky."

Finnick grinned. I clenched my fists by my sides as I tried to quell my anxiety at why this amused him so much. "Tell me Peeta," Finnick said, taking a step towards me so we were inches apart and leaned forward so our noses were nearly touching. "How good are you at being submissive?"

A lump formed in my throat and I found it difficult to swallow. "Pr-Pretty g-good," I stuttered.

"Have you had sex with a man before Peeta?" Finnick asked.

"N-no, I didn't even know it was p-possible," I replied.

Finnick smiled and framed my face in his hands. My entire body seized up at his touch. "That's so sweet," he said. His eyes studied my face and I watched him carefully, anticipating his next move. "What's someone as beautiful as you doing in this hellhole then?"

I blinked, caught of guard, and wasn't sure how to respond.

"W-what?"

"I've been coming here for nearly two years now on buisness trips from 4 and I've never seen anyone wandering around here with such bright hair," Finnick mused.

"Couldn't you have just looked in the mirror?" I asked. Finnick chuckled and swiped his thumb along my cheekbone.

"I could have," he admitted. "But I'd much rather look at you."

I opened my mouth to respond but am cut off as Finnick kisses me. Thankful that I no longer have to talk, I shut my eyes and try to transport myself anywhere but here. His tongue invaded my mouth and I winced as he bit down hard on my bottom lip. It was more difficult than it usually was to ignore what he was doing and I found myself opening my eyes again. Finnick walked me backwards and at first I thought he was leading me to the bed but instead my back suddenly came in contact with a wall. He pulled back and ran his fingertips over my thoroughly kissed lips.

"I'm not a very gentle person, Peeta," Finnick said. I watched him warily as he peppered kisses along my jaw and below my ear. I didn't understand what he was talking about. He seemed pretty gentle to me. "Do you think you'll be able to handle it?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Good," Finnick breathed into my ear. A shiver ran down my spine and something inside me told me that I shouldn't have said that. That I _really_ shouldn't have said that.

A yelp escaped me when he grazed the skin below my ear with his teeth and a shock of electricity shot through me. Stupid sensitive area. Finnick ran his hands down my sides and roughly grabbed my thighs to pull me up to his eye level. Out of fear of falling, I wrap my legs around his waist and lock my ankles behind his back. Women had done this to me before but I'd never had to do it to someone else.

His hand crawled up my chest and I breathed in through my nose as he tugged my shirt down my shoulder and bit down on where my neck connects to it. Hands groped my body and I bit back a groan as he cupped his hand over my crotch. I was trapped between the wall and his body and there was nothing I could do about it. I still wasn't sure how sex with a man worked and it made me worry more and more with every passing minute.

"You are so fucking hot," Finnick murmered huskily into my ear before enclosing it in his mouth and sucking it. My body responded almost immediately and I groaned in almost pain. Finnick grinned, sliding his hands back down my chest and grabbing the hem of my shirt. He pulled back to look me in the eyes and I was startled by how much the emerald green had darkened. My shirt was then pulled up and over my head and tossed off to the side.

I felt a chill run down my spine and I shuddered from the cold. Finnick licked his lips, pulled his own shirt off and pressed his body harder against mine. His skin was warm against mine but I wasn't sure whether I liked the feeling of him pressed against me or not. He suddenly grabbed my ass to keep me supported against the wall and I yelped in response as he ruthlessly fondled my cheeks while agressively sucking on my neck.

"Suck on these," Finnick said once he'd pulled away, pressing his fingers to my lips. "Or this will be much more painful than already planned."

I nodded and took his fingers into my mouth. I sucked on them like he told me to and swirled my tongue around them, feeling like my mouth was being intruded on by his large digits.

Finnick groaned, removing his fingers and I'm suddenly threw onto his bed. A sharp gasp draws out of my mouth in shock. My arms lay on either side of my head, hanging over the other end of the bed. Finnick loomed over me mencingly with a sinister smirk on his face. I wasn't sure what he was doing but I just wanted to get everything over and done with so I grabbed my belt and began unbuckling it. I cursed as I fumbled with it and tried to pull it off.

"So eager," Finnick commented. He swiped my hands away and single handedly undid the belt for me as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "Lay on your stomach." I eyed him warily and he nodded, flicking his head. Doing what he says, I turned over on the bed to lie on my stomach. It was much more unnerving being unable to see him and my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest because it was beating so loud.

I shut my eyes as I let Finnick pull my jeans and under wear off without compliant. My breath hitched when I heard his own zipper pulling down and I took the duvet covers into my hands, grasping them tightly to keep myself anchored.

When he pushed the first saliva covered finger into me I yelped, the pain making me feel like I'm being ripped apart. Finnick moved his finger in and out, in and out, before slipping a second digit inside. I wanted to scream but he put his spare hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. It hurt until I was suddenly hit my a wave of pleasure and instead of screaming in pain, a throaty moan came out of my mouth instead. The desire crept up my spine and enveloped me until I couldn't even remember what I was doing and why I was there.

That is, until Finnick climbed ontop of me and replaced his fingers with his dick.

An awful, hard pain ripped through me and I screamed into Finnick's hand. Finnick petted my hair and shushed me as if cooing to a baby. "It's okay, you'll adjust in a moment," he whispered to me. His lips pressed against my shoulders and trailed down my back to where his hands were tightly gripping my hips. I didn't know what was going to happen when I adjusted but I'd rather get it over and done with instead of sitting and waiting for it.

"I've adjusted," I muttered, resting my cheek against the bed and getting some decent air into my lungs.

Finnick started moving in and out, roughly thrusting into me like he'd been waiting ages for it. "Fuck," he cursed. "You're so tight Peeta." I couldn't deny that I was beginning to feel some form of pleasure. I didn't care whether it felt good or not though, I swallowed every moan I felt building in my throat and stayed as inemotive as I could manage.

He came before I did and I was thankful for that. Most of the time once my cilents got what they wanted they'd just leave me alone. Not Finnick though. Finnick was different. Once he came, he fell onto my back, exhausted. I could hear his tired pants against my ear and it made a shiver run down my spine.

"You didn't finish," he mumbled into my shoulder.

"I'm good," I replied breathlessly. My ass was killing me and the only thing on my mind was finding somewhere to go and have a good cry. He didn't listen though and snuck his hand around me, tightly gasping hold of my manhood. I choked on my own spit as he slowly ran his hand up and down my shaft, flicking his thumb over the tip. Finnick bit my shoulder and I moaned before I could stop myself. It just felt so good.

It didn't take me long to near my end and Finnick whispered encouragements, gently nipping my ear after each one. I groaned and finally climaxed, my body falling limp against the bed. Finnick nestled his head into my neck and pressed small kisses against my collarbone before rolling off me and standing up. I sat up too and winced as a dull ache travelled up my back.

"I told you I was rough," Finnick said as he pulled his shirt over his head and headed to the bathroom. "You have a minute then come join me in the shower." I watched him as he left, running my hands through my hair in frustration and kicking the bed post.

Fuck everything.

_**A week later:**_

I couldn't remember how many times Finnick had made me cum that night he bought me but I was glad when he finally let me leave with $50 in my pocket. I know it wasn't much but Coin only charges $10 an hour for me and I was at Finnick's apartment for five hours.

I thought I wouldn't have to ever see the man again and just stick with my regulars but then Coin informed me that Odair had asked for me again specially. "You should be honoured," she had said. Yeah, well, I didn't feel very honoured at all.

And that's how I ended up sitting in his apartment once more. I was sitting cross legged on the middle of his bed while he did something in the bathroom that I hoped had nothing to do with me. When he came back into the bedroom, Finnick smiled at me. A glare formed on my face in return and this made his smile widen.

"Why did you ask for me again?" I asked.

"Okay, straight to the point," Finnick replied with a smug grin. "I like that." I clenched my jaw in irritation. "You know what's intrigueing about lust?" he asked. I watched him warily as he sat down across from me and took my hands into his.

"What?" I asked.

"It can overcome you anytime, anywhere and give you the oppurunity to explore the human body without trepitation," Finnick explained. I wrenched my hands away from him and he smiled. "I asked for you again because of one soul reason. No matter how you look, you always give me an instant hard on."

"Oh so romantic," I said sarcastically. I gasped as he pressed his hand against my jean clad crotch and squeezed.

"And," Finnick purred, groping my manhood mercilessly and listening to me gasp and groan. "I think I might become a regular."

"Believe me, you don't have to," I answered. I tried to get up but Finnick pulled me down into his lap so my back was pressed against his front.

"Believe me, I _want_ to," he replied, his hand creeping down my chest and stomach to mess with the waistband of my jeans. I resisted the urge to slap his hand away because if he became a regular then I might just begin to earn enough money to finally feed my family poperly again.

I felt his lips trail up my neck and pressed against the nape, his hands burying into my hair and scratching lightly across my scalp. It felt so soothing I closed my eyes and tried to relax. Finnick laid me down on the bed and climbed onto my lap, peppering kisses across my cheek until he reached my lips.

"Finnick?" I murmered quietly.

"What babe?" Finnick replied.

"Why me?" I asked.

Finnick kissed my neck and I suppressed a shiver as the hairs at the nape stood up and tingled. "Why not you?" he asked back.

"Because I'm nothing," I replied. "Where I come from, people who look like me are as common as rocks. The only reason the people around here even notice me is because I'm a blond lighthouse."

"I'd use the term, 'blond siren,'" Finnick mumbled against my skin. The term was so stupid I scoffed. Finnick growled and grinded his crotch roughly against my own. I moaned before I could stop myself and Finnick grinned, placing his hand behind my neck and pulling my face towards his and brushing his lips across mine.

"How long do you want me for tonight?" I asked. Finnick pursed his lips as if considering the question before slowly dragging my shirt off my torso.

"A couple of hours," he answered. I nodded and let my body go slack, letting Finnick get on with using and abusing it. His hands greedily grabbed whatever he wanted and I tried to keep my mind focused on something else. It was difficult, especially when he took my wrists and pinned them up against the head board. It made me feel vulnerable since I couldn't move. Finnick reached out and grabbed something off his bedside table.

"What is that?" I asked.

"Just something to help me," Finnick answered.

"Help you what?" Something cold suddenly clicked around my wrist. I looked up as Finnick wound a handcuff chain around the headboard of the bed and connected it to my other wrist. I tugged on them and realized with them like that, I couldn't move at all.

Finnick sat back and ran his eyes appreciatively down my body and I gulped. What was he going to do now that I couldn't escape at all? I watched him every step of the way as he tapped kisses across my chest and down my stomach, wary of what he was planning. My hips unexpectantly bucked as his lips grazed underneath my ribcage. Finnick chuckled and hooked his thumbs into my belt loops, inching my jeans off my legs slowly. I squirmed uncomfortablely, tugging my wrists helplessly against their restraints.

There was a tent in my underwear and I was ashamed of it. I didn't know how I was going to look Katniss in the eye when I got home after getting aroused so quickly by a man. Finnick's eyes lit up when he saw this and pressed a soft kiss to my lips as if telling me it was okay. As he deepened the kiss, his hand inched underneath the only garment left on my body and wrapped around my arousal. I groaned as he moved his hand up and down my length unbashedly.

Finnick buried his face into my neck and grazed his teeth along my jaw, kissing, nipping and sucking. His teeth dug into my skin and I winced, trying to inch away from him. Finnick wrapped his arm around my back and tugged me back to him so my side was pressed flush against his body. I felt him pressing into my thigh and I gulped. The hand around my back glided down and under my underwear, cupping my ass.

"Finnick," I whimpered, gasping sharply as his hand continued jerking my dick while the other fondled my backside ruthlessly. It was like getting battered from all sides with pleasure. Finnick groaned at the sound of his name and I scowled in disgust.

"You almost there baby?" he teased, pinching my rear end teasingly. Thankfully, I was-the sooner it was done with, the better-and I nodded my head furiously. Finnick grinned, the gesture glinting with horrible malice, and quickened his movements.

My back arched off the bed as I came, the handcuffs chinking against the metal bars of the headboard, before falling back down with a _thump _on the mattress. Panting for breath, I tilted my head back and gasped in as much clean oxygen as I could manage. My underwear was soaked with seamen and I internally groaned, knowing that Katniss would be asking questions when I got home.

"Wow, that was so sexy," Finnick said, brushing my hair out of my face with a smile. I glared at him with hatred.

"Yeah, okay, you made me cum, yippee and all that but can you unlock me? My arms are cramping up," I replied, tugging on my bonded wrists. Finnick got off the bed and ran his eyes over my form once more. He tilted his head and pursed his lips, his green orbs lingering on my crotch before trailing back to my face.

"Nah, I think I'll leave you for a while," he replied.

"What? You can't fucking leave me like this!" I snapped, pulling harder on the handcuffs. Finnick smirked and outstretched his arms.

"Watch me," he replied. He turned on his heel and disappeared into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

"Finnick you get fucking back in here right now or I swear to fuck I'll kill you!" I yelled. My heels dug into the mattress as I yanked on the cuffs. They wouldn't give and I swore bloody murder at the pervert in the bathroom as I pulled. When yanking was no longer an option, I twisted my body round, planted my feet on the headboard and pushed backwards, hoping to snap the chain or, even better, rip Finnick's headboard. I was lucky I could twist that way or I'd have no means of even trying to escape.

When I finally gave up, I fell flat on my stomach and used a last resort of trying to pick the lock with my teeth. It wasn't working but I kept going at it regardless, even when Finnick returned into the room.

"You know unless you have the teeth of Enobaria there's no way that's going to work," he commented.

"Who the fuck is Enobaria?" I snapped in reply.

Finnick paused. "Doesn't matter. No concern of yours." I was almost sure that scraping at metal cuffs would not be good for my teeth but at that certain moment in time, I didn't really care. A hand suddenly laid a firm slap on my ass and my head jerked in shock, bumping my top teeth against the cuff.

"Fuck," I swore, hoping it didn't do any damage to my mouth. The hand stayed on my backside and started kneading, the feeling almost making me pause my desperate attempt at escape to bask in the glorious shockwaves it sent up my being.

"You've got the hottest ass I've ever seen," Finnick purred, hooking his fingers into the waistband of my underwear and pulling them down.

"Can't have seen to many then," I muttered, clamping my teeth down over the chain of the cuffs and grinding them together, trying to loosen it. Finnick's other hand joined it's twin, kneading and massaging my rear end while I desperately chewed on the handcuffs, absoloutely convinced they were going to give soon.

The bed dipped as Finnick got onto it once more but I ignored him as I continued my escape efforts. My body was becoming acustomed to the feeling of his hands groping my backside and I was beginning to be able to ignore it before something warm and wet glided over my entrance. This time I really did do something to my teeth as I gasped in shock and bumped my teeth against the metal again. The taste of blood filled my mouth and I was forced to swallow it as I couldn't spit, no matter how much I wanted to.

"Did you just lick me?!" I gasped.

"It's called eating ass baby," Finnick replied, rubbing the small of my back. "Don't worry, you'll like it."

"I don't think I will-ah!" My body arched against it's will as his tongue returned, worming it's way in and out of me until I was a bundle of breathless moans underneath him. When he pulled away, Finnick licked a trail up my spine and a shudder ran through my body as he blew cold air on the trail of saliva.

There was a clink as he undid his belt and I panicked as I realized what was coming. My teeth worked harder on the handcuffs as if if I got free I'd be able to stop him even though this wasn't the case. Finnick grabbed my hips and held me still as he pushed into me. My body screamed and I forced myself to bite harder onto the chain to prevent myself from expressing these feelings. He pumped in and out of me at a fast pace, causing my body to jerk with his thrusts, each one building up the closer he got. His thrusts got more erratic as he got closer to finishing and he moaned loudly as he came.

He didn't bother freeing me until his time with me was a minute from being up.

_**Present: Cato: D4 jail:**_

"Someone better let me the fuck out of here!" I yelled, shaking the bars. "I'am a fucking police officer!"

"Yeah, sure, and I'm the king," one of the officers of 4 called back from his desk. I threw my hands into the air in exasperation. I slammed my hand against the jail door in frustration.

"I swear to fuck if Peeta gets hurt because of you stupid fuckers I will personally come to your houses and murder you myself!" I screamed. The officers rolled their eyes and continued their game of cards.

"Mr. Mellark is now property of Mr. Odair," the second officer said. "Sorry mate, you're going to have to move on. That is, if the judge lets you go."

"Are you stupid fuckers so idiotic that you believe that a couple of scars mean ownership? You know what shows ownership? _Nothing._ Because you're not supposed to own a human being! Becuase it's fucking sick!" I kicked the bars for good measure and resisted the urge to put my fist through a wall.

The door to the police station opened and Clove hobbled in with her walking stick. She looked at me with her bright green eyes and sighed, shaking her head. "Detective Clove Jettison from District 12," she stated, flashing her badge to the officers. Damn, I really should remember to carry mine around more often. "I'm here to bail out Mr. Hadley."

"Ma'am," the first officer said. "It's a large fee." I didn't like the way the man was eyeing up my collegue but there wasn't anything I could do about it trapped in my cell.

"I'm aware," Clove said stonily. She propped her stick up against the officer's desk and dug her hand into her pocket. She slapped a giant wad of cash onto the desk and quirked an eyebrow. "Is that enough?" The second officer nodded frantically, hurrying off to collect the keys to my cell. The first man smirked and walked around the desk to stand inches from Clove.

"My, aren't you a pretty one," he commented. "Wouldn't mind claiming you for myself." I noticed the sharp blade in his hand which he held behind his back and I opened my mouth to warn Clove but she beat me to it.

"Oh, how sweet," she said, flashing him a faux smirk. "Why don't you mark your territory, right here." She pressed her index finger into the middle of her forehead. The man leaned in as if looking for something written on her skin. Clove bashed her head against his and the officer reered back. She then swiped her stick under his feet, causing him to fall.

"Fuck!" he cursed as she slammed him forward into the police desk. The second officer dropped the keys and rushed to the man's aid but Clove stuck her foot out behind herself, tripping him up, and kicked him backwards into the wall behind her. He hit the wall like a stone and dropped to the floor like one too.

"Listen to me you sick fuckers," she hissed. "If any harm has come to that man because of your barbaric rules then you will wish your mom and dad ever decided to fuck and create you because I swear on every fucking religion that I will make your fucking life a living hell. Trust me."

The second man stumbled to his feet and raised his fist to hit her but Clove sensed it coming and kicked him in the crotch. He crumpled to the floor once more. "We're just doing our jobs!" he grunted.

"Oh, your jobs?" Clove asked. "I don't know how you look yourselves in the mirror after giving innocent people's lives away." She grabbed her stick again and used it to keep the officer pinned against the desk as she kicked some dirt off her boots. "You see that man you gave away last night? You stole him from his lover and basically handed him over to his own personal hell on a silver platter. You might as well have sold his fucking soul."

I don't think I'd ever seen Clove this angry before. Her eyes were dark and her face was contorted in rage.

"And that was a good man you gave away. Never done anything wrong in his entire life. He doesn't deserve bullshit and yet gets it from stupid fuckers like you at every turn," Clove snapped. She grabbed the blade the officer dropped. "My, aren't you a pretty one? Wouldn't mind claiming you myself."

I jumped as she rammed the blade into the man's neck and ripped it around into a stratchy 'C'. The officer screamed in pain but Clove paid no heed as you tore a 'J' beside the 'C' on the man's skin. "Oh would you look at that," she hissed. "You're now my property."

The second officer panicked and scrambled to his feet and tried to run. Clove whipped her head around and chucked the blade. The sharp point whizzed past the man's shoulder and caught his shirt, effectively pinning him against the wall.

"You'll fucking stay where you are unless you want to be mine too," Clove snapped. She lifted the officer's head off the desk and rammed it back down, knocking him unconcious. Swiftly, she grabbed the keys off the floor and unlocked my cell.

I was immediately on the pinned man. "Were does Finnick Odair live?" I snapped.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the man replied. I growled and rammed my fist into his gut. He croaked in pain and his knees buckled.

"I'll ask again," I said through gritted teeth. "Where does Finnick Odair live?"

"Other side of the District!" The man exclaimed. "In the large apartment building. You can't miss it!"

"Thank you for your co-operation," I said. "Goodbye." I punched him in the head and he dropped to the floor, out cold.

Clove leans heavily on her stick, her breathing rapid. "There's a car out the front," she whispered. "You coming?" I walked over to her and hooked my arm underneath hers, supporting her against me.

"Thank you for coming for me," I said. Clove smiled and grabbed the wad of money.

"No problem." She paused. "I'm not just doing it for you. I'm doing it for Peeta."

I smiled. "I know."

_**A/N: So, badass Clove moment, huh? :D**_

_**Question for the future of the fic: I have this idea, but I don't want to do something you guys don't like. I have a backup idea in case you don't like this one. So, what are your opinions on mpreg? (Male pregnancy). It's an idea I have for the future but I know some people don't like that sort of thing and I don't want to lose readers because of it so if you don't like it let me know and I'll do the alternate idea. Okay? :D :D**_

_**Preview:**_

_**Inches felt like miles as I crawled. My hands clawed at the carpet as I struggled forward. The metal of my leg felt a tonne weight and a ragged groan ripped out of my lungs as I tried to drag it ahead. The door looked so close. Inches away. In my mind it might as well have been metres. Miles. Days away. **_

_**I looked back and saw my wheelchair up against the wall. It must have slid backwards when I jumped off of it. Well, definetly no turning back anyway.**_

_**It felt like a vien in my head was going to burst as I tried to pull myself forward. I cried out in frustration, reaching out for the door handle and still not quite getting there.**_

_**"What are you doing?" His voice was like a bucket of cold water over me. Strong arms wrapped around me and I screamed as I was lifted off the floor. I was so close! "Do you really think you could escape that easily?" I didn't listen, I just continued to scream, kicking and thrashing in his arms. Because I couldn't hold it in anymore.**_

_**I was sick of being strong.**_

_**Please R&R! :D**_

_**(P.S: I'am now writing in past tense as I find it easier)**_


	12. The suburbs and the apartment

_**A/N: Hey folks, here's chapter twelve!**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games or it's characters.**_

_**(For details on the mpreg thing, please refer to the bottom A/N)**_

Chapter Twelve: The suburbs and the apartment

_**Peeta: Finnick's secret hide out:**_

Inches felt like miles as I crawled. My hands clawed at the carpet as I struggled forward. The metal of my leg felt a tonne weight and a ragged groan ripped out of my lungs as I tried to drag it ahead. The door looked so close. Inches away. In my mind it might as well have been metres. Miles. Days away.

I looked back and saw my wheelchair up against the wall. It must have slid backwards when I jumped off of it. Well, definetly no turning back anyway.

It felt like a vien in my head was going to burst as I tried to pull myself forward. I cried out in frustration, reaching out for the door handle and still not quite getting there.

"What are you doing?" His voice was like a bucket of cold water over me. Strong arms wrapped around me and I screamed as I was lifted off the floor. I was so close! "Do you really think you could escape that easily?" I didn't listen, I just continued to scream, kicking and thrashing in his arms. Because I couldn't hold it in anymore.

I was sick of being strong.

"What would you have done when you got outside, huh?" Finnick asked, his voice hard and angry. "Drag yourself down the path screaming bloody murder? No one would listen, they know our situation around here." Finnick had taken me to a suburb far away from his apartment, on the edge of the district.

"What do you mean?" I whined, struggling for all I was worth.

"I'll show you," Finnick replied. He peered out the window and smirked when he saw the lady next door trimming her hedges. He dragged me to the front door and kicked it open. I thrashed against him as he took a step outside and pushed me forward.

Still being unable to walk, I stumbled and fell to the ground, the metal of the prostetic clanging loudly and resounding off like an echo as I hit the pavement. I groaned in pain.

"Is the young man not behaving himself?" the woman next door asked. Finnick chuckled.

"Just taking him out for some air," he replied. "Poor thing's been suffocating in that old house."

"Ack, I think he'd survive," the woman said. "Make sure you keep him in line now Finnick. Can't have all that screaming every day." Finnick smiled down at me and I winced as a dull ache traveled up my arm. I rolled onto my back and clutched my arm, holding back a groan.

"Sorry about that. My little pet was just trying to escape," Finnick explained to the woman.

"Better knock that in the head. Don't want him thinking I'm going to put up with his patheic screaming every night," The woman said. "Gag him if you have to." It was hard to believe that these words were coming from an old lady and I couldn't comprehend why she was acting the way she was.

"How's Gareth?" Finnick asked.

"Oh, he's good," the lady replied. She smiled as if remembering something happy. "I remember when he was newly claimed and kept screaming and protesting too. Ah, memories." Oh, that was it. She'd claimed someone as well.

"You ready to come back in and behave now?" Finnick's smile looked evil as the sun cast a shadow across his face as he stared down at me. I tried a last ditch effort of dragging the metal prostetic of my other leg to try and run again but it wouldn't work. Exhausted, I looked up at Finnick again and nodded sadly.

I'm pulled off the ground again and Finnick hooks an arm around me to keep me upright. My head hangs in shame as he chats more with the lady next door. My eyes zone in on my red sneakers and I frown in curiousity. Cato had a special shoe made to fit the prostetic and matched the red sneaker exactly. I never really thought about how much the shoes had been through. Staring at them now, I notice that the one on my real foot-the orginal-is battered and scuffed, the shoelaces fraying and fabric tearing. Maybe it was time I did get rid of them . . . .

"Well, I better get back inside," Finnick sighed. "Nice talking to you Miss. Potts."

"You too Finnick dear," the woman smiled. "You make sure you keep the young man in line."

"Don't worry," Finnick replied. I felt his hand slide down my back and I flinched as he let it rest over my backside. "I will." Steering me around as he guided me to the door, Finnick kept his hand where it rested and didn't bother to move it.

"Finnick," Miss. Potts called. Finnick turned and quirked an eyebrow at the woman. "Plough him hard tonight. Show him who's boss." She smirked and winked before going back to her hedges. My jaw dropped in horror and Finnick chuckled.

"Will do Miss. Potts," he replied before entering the house once more and locking the door behind him. He carried me into the living and dropped me on the couch.

"That woman's nuts!" I exclaimed.

"She's not nuts," Finnick said. "She's a claimer." I frowned and Finnick raised his eyebrows. "I brought you here because everyone in this suburb has either claimed or own someone. I can't afford people ringing the police every time you lash out. Around these parts, it's normal to hear screaming next door."

"So no-one's going to care?" I asked.

"No-one's going to care," Finnick confirmed.

My heart sank and I looked at the floor. I was royally screwed. Even if Cato managed to get out of jail, he'd never find me in these stupid suburbs. I wondered whether this is what my life was going to be from now on. Trapped in a suburb house, being Finnick's pet for the rest of whatever time I had left.

The stump of my leg began to ache from the prostetic being left on too long and I winced, crossing my arms and trying to ignore it. There was no way I was taking the thing off with Finnick in close proximity. I didn't need to feel any more vulnerable than I already did. Finnick noticed and frowned.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I dunno. I'm trapped in a house with a man who scares me to death with no way what-so-ever of escaping," I said dully.

"_Apart_ from that," Finnick sighed. "You winced. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I grumbled.

"It's your leg isn't it?"

"No," I mumbled.

"Yes, it is," Finnick frowned. "What's wrong with it? Why does it hurt?"

I pressed my lips together and glared at him. Another sharp pain burned into my leg and I twitched. Finnick sighed and raised his eyebrows at me. I sighed and shook my head. "Sometimes when the leg is left on too long it chafes the skin and it begins to hurt."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry, I was too busy getting kidnapped and dragged across the district to crazy-ville!" I exclaimed. "My leg wasn't exactly my main piority!"

"It should be," Finnick replied. "If you're hurting, then you tell me."

"What?!" I exclaimed. "If you don't want me to hurt, take me back to Cato!"

Finnick rolled his eyes and sat down on his haunches infront of me. "Come on, let me take a look," he said.

"No," I replied. Ignoring me, Finnick flicked open the button of my jeans and looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to raise my hips so he can take them off. Instead, I lifted my left my good leg to kick him away from me but it was a feeble attempt as all he did was grab my ankle and pin my leg back against the couch.

"I'm just trying to help," he pointed out.

"Uh-huh," I grumbled. Sure, he probably was trying to help, but I didn't need it.

"Easy way, or hard way?" Finnick asked. Ah, _that_ question. Like I haven't heard that from him before. I sank back into the couch cushions and gave him a cold, hard look.

"Easy way is giving in and letting you do what you want," I said. "I'm not going to _ever_ give in to you." Finnick's eyes gleamed and a shiver jumped down my spine.

"I love it when it has to be the hard way," he replied. I watched uneasily as his hand crept up my leg and slipped underneath my shirt. I stiffened as I realized what he was going to do.

"No Finnick," I snapped. "_Don't._"

"Hey, you're the one who chose the hard way," Finnick replied. "I wouldn't really call his hard _per say_ but I do know how much you hate it." He ran his fingertips underneath my ribcage and I managed to stiffen out my hips to prevent them from bucking up on reflex. Finnick pressed harder and tickled and I couldn't stop it this time. The nerves in my hips jerked and jumped up on reflex. Finnick grabbed them mid air and I growled at him in anger.

"Can't you ever give it a rest?" I snapped.

He hooked his thumbs into my belt loops, pulling them over the curve of my backside and yanking them down to hang around my ankles. Finnick winced at the irritated skin around the prostetic. "You should have told me sooner," he murmered.

"So you could do what, exactly?" I asked.

"How do you take this thing off?" Finnick wondered out loud, examining the clasps and bolts on the metal leg.

"You're _not_ taking it off," I said. Finnick ignored me and fiddled with the clasp. "I don't even know why you'd still want me anyway with half my leg gone . . ." Finnick glanced up at me through his hair and frowned.

"I don't know what the reasons are on why you think I love you so much but it's not soely based on how you look," he said. "I love you because you're you. Of course, your body's a bonus."

"Half body," I responded.

"Don't talk like that," Finnick scolded.

"Oh, I almost forgot, it's also_ your_ fault that it's a half body!" I added. The clasp unlatched with a loud 'click' and I bit back on my sigh of relief as Finnick pulled it off.

"I'm sorry about that," he said, running his fingertips along the reddened skin. "I didn't mean to."

"So, what? You rammed your car into the side of Cato's for what? The hell of it?" I snapped.

"No." Finnick looked angry at the thought of the loss of my leg being his fault. He cupped his hand over the stump and rubbed the sore spots. It didn't feel as good as it did when Cato did it in the hospital but I felt relieved all the same.

"Don't you have better things to do?" I asked.

"I have a meeting with two people in about half an hour but they're coming to my house so it's alright."

I eyed him wearily as he continued to rub the sore spots on my leg. "Who's coming?" I asked.

"Enobaria and Marvel. We have some things to discuss," Finnick explained.

"You mean . . . the Mafia's coming?" My stomach bottomed out in fear of the thought.

"Well, if you still call what ever's left of them the Mafia then sure, the Mafia's coming," Finnick said. "I'm still bound by contract and they haven't gotten their precious Cornelia back yet."

"And they still probaby won't," I replied. "She went to court and got convicted of murder and body dumping. She's not going to be freed at all."

"I know," Finnick admitted. "I'm not interested in getting their stupid girl back." That threw me off completely and I frowned.

"What?" I asked.

"The Mafia have something I want. Something I need," he explained. "Something I know will make you stay with me even if your boyfriend comes to get you." I was completely lost by now. Frowning, I ran hand through my hair.

"What do you mean?" If Cato came to get me, I was going with him. There was nothing that was going to stop me from leaving Finnick. Surely he knew that, right?

"I'll make a bet with you," Finnick said. "If I get what I want off the Mafia and you still want to leave me then fine, I'll let you go." His eyes flicked up to me and he smirked. "Have we got a deal?"

"Fine," I answered. Wow, is he actually going to let me go? "When do you get this . . . thing?"

"I'm discussing it with Enobaria when her and Marvel arrive," Finnick replied. "It'll maybe take a day or two." A day or two? I couldn't even last an hour or two! But I guess if he's going to let me go then I should be able to hold out . . .

"Okay," I sighed. "Fine."

There's a knock on the door and Finnick frowns. "Who is it?" he called.

"Tooth fairy," a voice replied. "Jesus Finnick, who the fuck do you think it is?"

Finnick sighed, calling, "Two minutes!" before helping me reattatch my leg and readjusting my jeans. When I'm decent, he goes to the door, opening it with a scowl. "Ever heard of better late than early?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Enobaria said as she entered the house with Marvel trailing behind her. A blonde woman was in close follow, examining her manicured nails, obviously not bothered about anything.

"What's _she _doing here?" Finnick scowled as he shut the door.

"Excuse me, _she_ has a name," the blonde woman snapped, flipping her hair. "It's your stupid Mafia's fault my boyfriend had to pretend to be fucking dead so now I'm coming with him everywhere thank you very much." She looked at me and raised her eyebrows. "Glimmer," she said. "Glimmer Sparkles. Marvel's girlfriend."

"That's Peeta," Enobaria said. "Don't expect him to speak to you." I'm glad they've finally picked up how I'm going to behave around them.

Glimmer pursed her lips and tutted. "Charming," she scoffed.

"Glimmer, just sit down and shut up," Marvel hissed. The blonde glared at him and slapped him.

"Don't speak to me like that!" she snapped.

"And now we've gone domestic!" Finnick exclaimed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. I was enjoying how the blonde was irritating everyone and watched with amusement as Glimmer lectured her boyfriend. Enobaria clenched her jaw grabbed the girl's shoulders, forcing her down into a seat.

"Shut your trap girlie before I shut it for you," she said harshly. Glimmer's mouth fell closed pretty fast after that and Enobaria smirked in statisfaction.

"Okay," Marvel sighed. "Where should we begin?"

_**Cato: Finnick's Apartment: Same time:**_

"If they're not here, where are they?" Clove frowned. We stood in the middle of the empty apartment in confusion, the door lying on the floor, unsettled dust floating around it.

"I don't know," I replied. "I don't have a fucking clue."

"Well, we have to do something," Clove said, leaning against the wall, exhausted.

"Let's search the place," I decided. Clove frowned, grabbing my arm as I made a move to go forward.

"But we don't have a warrant," she said.

"Do you really think I care about a warrant right now?" I replied, wrenching my arm out of her grasp and moving forward. Giving in, Clove sighed and moved to the giant chest of drawers beside the wardrobe. I got onto my knees and start pulling everything out from underneath the bed. It's mostly clothes and shoes under there.

"You got anything?" Clove asked.

"No," I answered. "You?"

"Nope," she sighed. "Hold on, there's a cabinet over here." As I tipped open the drawers of Finnick's bedside cabinet, Clove hobbled over to a cabinet that sat directly oppisote to the bed. There's a pause after she opened the doors and I glanced over my shoulder to look at her. "What's in there?"

Clove ran a hand through her hair. "Fuck Cato, don't come over here."

"What? Why not?" I frowned, standing up. Clove shut the doors quickly and pressed her back against the cabinet.

"Just don't," she said.

"Clove," I said carefully. "What's in there?"

"Nothing!" Clove exclaimed. "Just . . . uh . . . clothes! Yeah, clothes and . . . ah . . . nick nacks!" I approached the cabinet and she whirled around, hugging the entire structure. "No! Don't!" Wrapping my arms around her waist, I lifted her off her feet and deposited her on the bed. She lurched at me just as I swung the doors open and wrapped her arms around my waist, trying to pull me away. "No Cato! Don't look! You'll get worked up!"

It was too late though. I'd seen.

Clove slumped in defeat as she realized I'd seen it and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Cato," she said softly. "Please don't get angry."

Inside the camera is a mess. A miss mash of photos, money and, what I'd call, _weapons of torture._ There was a paddle propped against the back of the cabinet, a set of handcuffs hung from a hook wedged in the side, boxes of candles sat in a uniform pile, a small, compact whip was rolled up and also hung from a hook, and four strap like items sat in the far right corner.

Clove wedged herself between me and the cabinet and tried to scoop up the photographs before I seen them but dropped a couple in her haste. I picked them up before she could stop me and flicked through them.

The first one I'd seen before. It was the photo Finnick had sent me when Katniss and I were trying to save Peeta from the Mafia. The one that apparently ended up in a Playboy magazine. The puppet one. Only slightly different. Finnick was in this one and his arm was wrapped around Peeta's neck, as if ready to snap it at any wrong move, and his lips were pressed against his temple. Seeing this alone made me feel the urge to punch a hole in a wall.

The second photo wasn't too bad. I hadn't seen it before but it wasn't anything too drastic. It was of Peeta, again, but only he was sitting on the bed behind me. It seemed to be morning because the morning light was streaming in through the window and setting his blond hair alight. It was a beautiful photo, one I would have loved to have kept if it hadn't of been taken under such cruel circumstances. Because he wasn't wearing any clothes and was wrapped up in a duvet. It was obviously the morning after one of his nights with Finnick.

The third was what really got me worked up. As soon as Clove saw it, she snatched it out of my hands and tore it up, knowing exactly what it was doing to my temper. She was too late again though. I'd seen all too much. I couldn't see Peeta's face in the photo-which I think I'm thankful for-as he sits propped on the edge of the bed because he's leaning forward as if about to be sick. His hands are bound together in front of him with white cloth that's spotted with blood. It's an overhead shot so his bare back is in full view of the camera lens. Scratched across his skin are deep cuts outlined with dark bruises. Whip cuts.

"I think you should see this," Clove said quietly. I looked up at her. In her hands was a blue plastic pamphlet. "Lazor scar removal," she said in a hushed voice. "Clinic funded by Finnick Odair."

"Lazor scar removal," I repeated, taking the pamphlet from her.

"He put money toward it," Clove explained. "There's like twenty appointment cards in here. Why would Finnick need twenty scar removal appointmets unless . . ." she trailed off.

"Unless they weren't for him," I finished. This was doing nothing for my temper. Rage was boiling up inside me and I wasn't sure how I was going to quell it. That's when I noticed the bulge sticking out of the back of Clove's jeans.

"Clove, what's that?"

"What's what?" she asked back.

"The bulge in your pants," I replied.

"Oh _that?_ It's . . . it's nothing." Clove held her wrist up to her eyes. "Well would you look at the time. I'll go ask the neighbours some questions-"

"Clove!" I snapped. "Give me it!"

The dark haired girl sighed and pulled an old VCR video tape out of the back of her pants. "It says: _Confiscated from Delly Cartwright._ I don't like it and I don't think you would either."

"Delly?" I asked. "You mean the Mafia's snitch? The girl who Madge shot?"

"Yeah," Clove replied. "This sticker that says it was confiscated off her? That's a authority stamped sticker. Finnick must have taken it from the police when it was taken off of Cartwright."

"Why though? I thought Finnick only met the members of the Mafia when Johanna called him. How could he possibly have an old tape from Delly Cartwright?"

"Well, Johanna obviously knew him before the whole Cornelia ordeal," Clove replied. "Maybe Finnick and Delly had a history as well."

"With what? Video tapes?" I frowned.

"Ah, yeah," Clove answered. "Video tapes." She snatched the tape back and shoved it back into her jeans.

"Why didn't you want me to see it?" I asked. Clove held my gaze or a moment before sighing and shaking her head.

"We don't know what's on it," she said. "_I_ don't know what's on it. And this is Finnick Odair's apartment . . . with all the photos and all . . . I didn't want you doing any more damage than you already have. You kicked the door down on the thought alone that he was in here Cato. What if it's something really bad on that tape? What if he decided to film one of his encounters with Peeta to . . . I don't know . . . bring back to four with him cuz' he's a fucking sicko?" She waved her hands around for emphasis. "What if it shows the use of those weird strap things? Or that paddle being put to use? You'll put a hole in a wall Cato."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" I muttered.

"Yes. It would." Clove looked deadly serious. "You're dangerous when you're angry Cato."

"Oh, am I now?" I scoffed.

"Yes" Clove snapped. "Now come on. We're going to go interrogate the neighbours."

I sighed, knowing she was right, and bit back on my pending anger. Clove's features softened and she smiled sympathically. "Here, I did find this in your house before the car crash." She handed me another photograph before climbing awkwardly over the broken door and disappearing down the hall.

It was a photo Katniss got a bystander to take last year when all six of us went to the pier for an afternoon. Jennifer was on Josh's shoulders, both of them laughing. Jennifer clings to her brother for dear life, her legs sticking downwards while her arms wrapped around his neck. Even though slightly red from his sister suffocating him, Josh's smile matched hers all the same. Katniss and Clove stand beside them, both of them posing ridiculously-Katniss with her arms spread out like a starfish and Clove leaning forward with her hands braced on her knees.

Then there's us.

I think out of the six of us, Peeta and I looked the most normal. Peeta's arm is wrapped around my shoulders and his head is leaning against my arm. His smile is small, shy almost. My arm is around his waist, holding him close to me. It's one of my favourite photos and I'm glad Clove gave it to me.

"Come on Cato!" Clove called. Her head popped around the doorway. "We've got to get on! No time to lose! Chop! Chop!"

I slid the photo into the plastic window in my wallet and put it into my pocket.

Interrogating the neighbours . . . how bad could it be?

_**A/N: So, we're going to hear from Finnick's neighbours in the next chapter. Should be interesting.**_

_**As for the mpreg thing, I seem to have more people against it than for it. But I do have people who want it to happen so I'm conflicted. Thanks to Toolazytologin for helping me decide what I'm finally going to do though.**_

_**Next chapter preview:**_

_**"In the past, have you ever seen this man around Finnick's place?" Clove handed the lady the photo from my wallet. The woman examined it carefully before nodding.**_

_**"Yes, I have. Years ago that young man used to visit Finnick all the time," she said. "I recall once he even sat outside his apartment waiting for young Odair to come home. Why? Has something happened?"**_

_**"Sorry ma'am, we can't release that information," Clove said.**_

_**"Is there anything else you can tell us?" I asked.**_

_**The woman thought the question over for a moment. "Yes," she decided. "There used to be quite a large racket whenever the boy would visit. It normally died down after about ten minutes or so and I never thought to call the cops or anything. Has something awful happened?"**_

_**"No need to worry ma'am," I replied. "No need to worry."**_


	13. That was NOT a flu jab

_**A/N: Thank you guys for all the reviews! You're all awesome!**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**_

_**Warnings: Pain. Lots of pain.**_

Chapter Thirteen: That was _not_ a flu jab

_**Cato: The neighbour's house: 7:00pm**_

"In the past, have you ever seen this man around Finnick's place?" Clove handed the lady the photo from my wallet. The woman examined it carefully before nodding.

"Yes, I have. Years ago that young man used to visit Finnick all the time," she said. "I recall once he even sat outside his apartment waiting for young Odair to come home. Why? Has something happened?"

"Sorry ma'am, we can't release that information," Clove said.

"Is there anything else you can tell us?" I asked.

The woman thought the question over for a moment. "Yes," she decided. "There used to be quite a large racket whenever the boy would visit. It normally died down after about ten minutes or so and I never thought to call the cops or anything. Has something awful happened?"

"No need to worry ma'am," I replied. "No need to worry."

"Finnick used to love that young man," the woman said knowingly. "Used to sing to himself every day that that boy was coming. It was nice to see him so happy."

I was beginning to understand that maybe Finnick did, indeed, love Peeta. I couldn't hold falling for him against the man I mean, I fell too. I fell just as hard as Odair did but one thing that I couldn't understand was how he could hurt Peeta if he loved him so much. Love wasn't supposed to hurt. It was supposed to be exciting and blissful. Not hard and painful.

If there was one thing I wanted to find out, it was that.

I knew Finnick had some sort of plan. That much was obvious. He must have a plan of some sort. He'd been planning something since he rammed his car into mine. Since he made sure we left the house in 12 and made sure we got trapped in 4 for the month long Poseidon celebration. Something that involves Peeta in a big way . . .

"He has a house in the suburbs if you're looking for him," the woman said, snapping me out of my thoughts. "When he's not in his apartment, he'll be in the suburbs. It's on the other side of the district."

"Really?" Clove asked, perking up.

"Yes, I could give you directions if you want."

"That would be of great help ma'am," I said, watching as the woman took a pen and notepad off the coffee table, jotting down the directions.

I'm one step closer Peeta. One step closer to you.

_**Peeta: Finnick's house in the suburbs: 10:30pm**_

Finnick's bed was still cold even though I'd been lying there for nearly half an hour. The duvet felt like ice on my skin, sending the occasional shiver down my spine. I lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling, meaningless thoughts wandering through my head.

Enobaria, Marvel and Finnick had a deep conversation in the living room earlier about possible ways to save Cornelia. They didn't get anywhere really, it turned out that Johanna was the stratigist for the group before she was killed. Enobaria and Finnick are currently speaking privately about whatever it was that Finnick needed off of the Mafia. It unnerved me that Finnick believed whatever this speical item was would convince me to stay with him by my own free will. After all I'd been through with him, he truely believed that I'd _chose_ to stay with him when I found out what this thing was.

Footsteps approached the room and I turned on my side away from the door, pulling the duvet up to my neck and shutting my eyes to pretend to be asleep. The door cracked open and light spilled in from the landing. Enobaria, Marvel and Glimmer are probably gone by now. "You asleep?" Finnick whispered. I shut my eyes tighter and snuggled my face further into the pillow. I steeled myself as he sat down on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. Finnick threaded his fingers into my hair and softly stroked. "I know you're not sleeping, you're not snoring." Damn it. I forgot I snored.

"I'm trying to sleep," I muttered.

"I'm sorry about the way I acted today baby. Miss Potts can be kind of crude and I was just trying to prove a point," Finnick explained. He trailed his index finger up and down my arm as he spoke. "I just love you so much and don't want you to leave me."

"I don't really have much choice at present right now anyway, do I?" I replied.

"I want to make you happy," he whispered. "With me." His reached up and traced the 'F' on the back of my neck with his finger tips. "You are mine after all."

"I won't be happy with you," I said quietly. Suddenly a thought came to me. "Do you still have the number for that scar removal doctor?"

Finnick chuckled. "No baby, sorry," he said. "You're stuck with these scars. Shame, I think I was two appointments away from getting a discount."

"Twenty two appointments, get a discount on the twenty third?" I frowned.

"Uh-huh," Finnick replied.

A shiver ran down my spine as I remembered going in for the first removal appointment. It was painful, the doctor was handsy and Finnick began funding the place because he couldn't afford the place closing down with all the pain he had planned for me. The first time he'd taken me there, he'd booked in advance so that as soon as he'd finished with me he could take me straight there. If Alma ever found out that he mistreated me then she'd have cut him off. Removing the scars was the only way Finnick could keep me without suspicion.

"Such a shame I left my stuff at the apartment," he sighed.

"Yeah, such a tragedy," I replied sarcastically.

There's a pregnant pause where neither of us speak and I even feel my eyes drooping, awash with exhaustion. Finnick leaned forward and whispered, "Enobaria gave me the special item early. You want to see what it is."

"No," I whispered back, both tired and scared at the same time. Finnick slid the covers off my body and smoothed his hand down my back. "What are you doing?"

"Sssh," Finnick murmered, stroking my hair again as he fumbled for something in his pocket. "Relax." I tried to turn around to face him on the bed but he planted his hand on my hip, preventing me from doing so. "Hold still."

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"Now how do you check for air bubbles?" Finnick murmered.

"What?!" I exclaimed.

"Right, never mind, I've got it," he said. "Now this going to hurt baby but I want you to be strong, okay?"

"What is it? What are you _doing?_" I asked. Finnick pushed my shirt up my torso and rested something pointy against the small of my back. "Finnick, what is that?!"

"You've had flu jabs before, right?"

"Uh, yeah," I replied cautiously.

"Well, then there should be no problem," Finnick said. "Right, it's just like having sex, relax your muscles or it will hurt even more." I try to do as he tells me but it's difficult when I don't know what he's about to do.

"Please tell me what this is going to do Finnick," I plead as he positions the pointy object on my back. "Finnick tell me-AH!" A sharp burning pain shot up my spine, crippling through my being and causing me to scream. Something inserted into my veins, a liquid of some sort, wrapping around my insides and squeezing them so tight I thought I was going to pass out.

"Fuck Finnick!" I cried out, wrapping my arms around my stomach and curling up into a ball. "What the fuck was that?!" Finnick wedged his arms under me, scooping me up and holding me close to him. My abdamon felt like thousands of needles were being jabbed into me, wrapping right around to my back. I clawed at his shirt as if grabbing onto something solid would distract me from the pain.

"Sssh babe, it's okay," Finnick shushed. "It's all going to be okay."

"What did you do?!" I yelled.

"All in good time baby," he replied. "Now come on, we need to finish this off."

"That wasn't _it?!_" The needle feeling was getting more persistant, digging into me and spreading the hurt. It was like a ball of hard pain was growing in my lower stomach. Finnick smiled and kissed the top of my head.

"You know how horny you make me when you're in pain baby," he murmered, nibbling on my earlobe.

"Fuck Finnick if you do anything, I swear to god I'm going to die," I replied. I gasped as the pain grew larger. My concern right now wasn't the fact that Finnick wanted to fuck me it was more of the fact that it felt like if I moved even an inch, the pain would only get so much worse than it already was.

"I promise you you won't. I know what I'm doing," Finnick whispered. "It's the last thing and then you can sleep." He let go of me and I lost my grip on him, falling backwards and hitting the mattress hard.

"Fuck!" I cursed as my back hit the bed, sending a jolt up my spine. It settled into an excruciating ache and my eyes stung, causing me to furiously blink back tears. Finnick paid no heed and removed his underwear before removing mine as well. Yet another shot of pain electrofied through my body and I buried my face into the pillow, trying to not let the pain show as I knew it got him off to see it.

Finnick sat back on his haunches and stroked himself as he watched me writhe in pain. His face melted into that of pleasure as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked on them, seeming to enjoy the experience. I was disgusted but had no means of hiding myself as I rode out the wave of hurt. Finnick grabbed my hips and dragged me towards him.

"Finnick, Finnick, please, don't, I swear, I'll die, I will." I was absoloutely convinced that Finnick had given me a lethal injection and that I was going to die.

"Ssh, it's okay," Finnick purred. "I promise you're not dying." He spread my legs open and stared at me unbashedly with a smirk. When he inserted a finger into me, my tailbone screamed and I screamed with it. As if trying to prolong my pain, Finnick worked me open slowly, dragging it out as long as he could. When he finally buried himself into me, my body turned into a ball of fire-not in a good way. Each thrust felt like a knife to my insides and I was sobbing by the time he came, my face coated in a thin flim of tears.

Finnick didn't need to tell me to go to sleep. I passed out before he even pulled out.

~xXx~

The first thing I registered when I woke up was that I was going to be sick. Throwing the duvet covers back, I scrambled off the bed, stumbling across the room to the en suite bathroom. I'd barely made it to the toilet before I started throwing up whatever I had left in my stomach. My knees buckled out from underneath me and I slid to the floor. My arms hugged the toilet as I continued to wrench long after there was nothing left to throw up.

My insides still burned and my body felt like it was ladden with water. I couldn't move. Or even think for that matter. I rested my forehead against the toilet seat and released a shuddering breath. Finnick came into the bathroom and the thought of him being there alone made me gag again.

"You're okay baby," Finnick murmered, rubbing circles into my back as I continued to gag. "Your body might reject some of the fluids I gave you last night."

"What have you done to me?" I gasped between gags.

"All in good time," Finnick soothed. "You're going to be okay."

I choked and gagged up some stomach acid, the liquid burning my throat on it's way up. Inside my body felt like a battle field, as if everything was getting scrambled and blended together. What had Finnick done? What was that he gave me last night.

"You finished?" he asked after I sat there with my head hanging in the toilet, waiting for something else to come up for ten more minutes. I nodded numbly, my neck aching from hanging over the edge for so long.

"I think so," I murmered. My voice bounced around the porcelin toilet bowl, creating an small echo.

"Come on." Finnick took my hands and helped me up to my feet. The ground spun underneath my feet and I stumbled into him. "Whoa, steady there. Come on, we need to get some food back into you."

"No," I moaned, the very thought of eating making me feel like I was going to barf again. "Please, I can't."

"I'm not taking no as an answer," Finnick replied, kissing my cheek. "You need to keep your strength up."

"Why?" I muttered lazily as he aided me out of the bathroom.

Finnick smiled. "Come on, I'll explain over breakfast."

_**A/N: Any ideas on what Finnick has given Peeta? I'd love to hear what you come up with!**_

_**Teaser:**_

_**"You didn't . . ." I trailed off as I stared at myself in the mirror. Finnick smirked and wound his arms around my waist, resting his hands on my abdamon. "I'm not . . ."**_

_**"I did," he whispered in response. "And you are."**_

_**"But it's impossible," I protested. It couldn't be right. It was scientifically impossible. Biologically impossible. It went against the laws of evolution! **_

_**I looked completely normal, nothing out of the ordinary at all. Finnick had to be lying. He just **_**had **_**to be. There was no way . . . no way at all . . . right?**_


	14. A family

_**A/N: Hola Amigos! Here's chapter fourteen for y'all! :D**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.**_

_**Warnings: Mpreg. Sorry, I had to. I understand if I lose some readers because of this but it's where I orginally wanted this fic to go and I want to stick with it. A big thank you for reading anyway. You're all awesome ^_^**_

Chapter Fourteen: A family

_**Peeta: Finnick's house in the suburbs: Ten minutes later**_

The smell of the food alone made my stomach churn and I held my fist up to my mouth to stop myself from having to return to the bathroom. I pushed the plate of toast away from myself. There was still a persistant ache in my lower abdamon but it didn't feel as awful as it had last night.

Finnick sighed and pushed the plate back towards me. "Eat," he said.

"No," I replied. "If I do, it's just going to come back up." I slid the plate back across the table. "Now tell me what you did to me last night."

"Just a touch of science," Finnick replied vaguely, taking the plate and dumping the uneaten toast into the bin.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?!"

"Over the years I've been working on a special serum that would make my goals achieveable," Finnick explained. "The Mafia gave me the space I needed when I agreed to come and trouble you when they held you captive. They had a giant laboratory with every piece of apparatus under the sun."

I frowned. "What did the serum you were working on do?"

Finnick gestured with his hand for me to follow him into the living room. I took his hand and he helped me up, guiding me to the sofa. I was a little apprehensive over what exactly he was about to tell me. Perching on the edge of the coffee table, Finnick smiled softly and took my hands into his. "How do you feel about children Peeta?" he asked.

"Children? As in kids in general or . . . what?" I asked cautiously.

"As in someday having children," Finnick clarified. "Having a family with me."

"With _you?_ Never," I answered. "How would you know how to treat children? You live off abuse Finnick."

Finnick chuckled and shook his head. "I would never hurt a child, I save that for you. It's always been a dream of mine ever since I met you to settle down and have a family with you."

The thought startled me. When I first realized that I was in love with Cato, many things ran through my head. Images of us settling down together, having Jennifer and Josh over every weekend, maybe adopting a baby of our own, my own personal heaven.

But with Finnick? I couldn't image Finnick being the 'settling down type'. When I was a prostitute I always saw Finnick as the big bad man who'd come alone once or twice a week to ruin my life. I thought his future was forever set on his dominatrix life. Never once did it pass through my mind that Finnick Odair's dream was to settle down and have a family. Certainly not with me.

"So . . . what? You're going to adopt?" I asked.

Finnick's smile widened. "How beautiful do you think our child would be if both our genes helped make it?"

"Surrogate?" I frowned.

Somehow my confusion was amusing Finnick. He kissed our joined hands and rested his forehead on them. "No, I mean, how beautiful do you think a baby would be if you carried it?" he enquired. He looked up at me and his emerald eyes gleamed. "Speaking hypatheically, of course."

"It wouldn't work," I answered. "Hypatheically or not, there's no way a man can carry a baby."

"Anything can happen hypathecially," Finnick replied. "Tell me, how beautiful?"

"I don't . . . I don't know," I said, confused.

"I guess we'll find out in nine months then," Finnick said quietly. I frowned. Something told me where ever this was going was not good. I shifted uncomfortably on the sofa.

"What?" I asked.

"The serum I developed was a redirectory drug that rearranges the insides of a man to make their body habitable for a fetus," Finnick explained. "Very painful but worth it." He stood up and led me to the full length mirror on the wall. I hadn't looked at myself in the mirror since Finnick took me and I really didn't want to. "Making the baby able to grow in the male's body and, once it's time for the baby to be born, they get a C-section."

"Doesn't make sense though because life is created through a sperm cell meeting with a _female's_ egg. Men don't have eggs so it doesn't work," I answered. "Unless my high school science teacher was wrong."

"But what if you could implant an egg into the serum liquid that has the genes of the man carrying it? That would grow in the body once the body was habitable. Of course, someone would have to fuck said man immediately to get the sperm needed for the baby to grow," Finnick explained.

"Your point being?" I replied.

"Enobaria gave me the completed product last night," Finnick emphasized.

My eyes widened in horror. "You didn't . . ." I trailed off as I stared at myself in the mirror. Finnick smirked and wound his arms around my waist, resting his hands on my abdamon. "I'm not . . ."

"I did," he whispered in response. "And you are."

"But it's impossible," I protested. It couldn't be right. It was scientifically impossible. Biologically impossible. It went against the laws of evolution!

I looked completely normal, nothing out of the ordinary at all. Finnick had to be lying. He just had to be. There was no way . . . no way at all . . . right?

"Not anymore it's not. Aren't you so lucky your owner is _so_ smart?" Finnick purred. "Imagine it, a baby. We're going to start a family together."

"If you wanted a baby so desperately couldn't _you_ have carried it?!" I'd be lying if I said I wasn't panicking. My breathing had became short and fast, my heart beating like a jackrabbit's. I was no longer carrying myself, I was caring for another life now. Whatever happened me for the next nine months would also affect whatever the hell was growing inside me right now as well.

"Because this is what's going to keep you with me," Finnick whispered. His breath tickled my ear and I shivered. "You're carrying our child now. Never mind a legal contract of ownership, you wouldn't want your baby to grow up without one of its parents would you?"

I couldn't believe it. I was actually stunned into silence. Because he was right. One of the things I had never wanted for my children was for them to grow up without knowing who I was, that's why Katniss convinced Alma not to make me work 24 hours a day seven days a week.

"Plus I think you'd look pretty sexy with a baby bump," Finnick murmered. His hands tightened on my abdamon-where this baby was supposedly growing-and my head spun. I felt like I was trapped in some sort of Twilight zone. I was going to wake up in a minute, I had to.

My eyes rolled behind my head and my body dropped like stone as I passed out. The last thing I register before I slowly slip out of conciousness is Finnick's arms holding me tight to prevent me from hitting the floor.

I wasn't out long. I think it was more of a black out than an actual passing out. Maybe I was out for about a minute or two. When my eyes fluttered open again Finnick was looming over me in concern. He'd laid me down on the coffee table and was checking my pulse. "You okay?" he asked.

"Please tell me I passed out in the kitchen and the last fifteen minutes have been a dream," I muttered. Finnick smiled and smoothed my hair back from my face. My heart felt like a caged bird, fluttering frantically, desperate to be freed.

"Nope," he said. "You're pregnant baby."

I nearly passed out again. Finnick gently slapped my cheeks to keep me awake. "I can't be," I whispered. "It doesn't work like that . . . not even science . . . it's just not . . ." Finnick silenced me by pressing his finger to my lips.

"Sssh," he soothed. "Don't get worked up. Stress is not good for the fetus."

"F-f-fetus," I murmered. The room was spinning and I felt light headed. "B-baby."

Finnick nodded, beaming like a lottery winner, and rested his hands against my stomach. "How does it feel to know you're creating new life?" he asked.

"Fucking sick," I answered. "This is crazy. I got to be dreaming. You can't just work on a couple of test tube experiments and be able to make a man pregnant!" Finnick smiled softly and rested his head against my abdamon, right over where this 'baby' should be growing.

"You're going to make a brilliant father," he murmered.

A wave of nausea hit me and I groaned. "I'm going to be sick," I said. Finnick snatched up a bin and pulled me into a sitting postion on the table. He wedged the bin between my knees and I hung my head over the edge into it. My stomach was churning and it felt like something was forcing it's way up my throat but wasn't quite making it all the way.

Finnick ran his fingers through my hair, pushing back the curls that hung around my face when I threw up more stomach acid. He murmered sweet nothings into my ear as I retched. Tears sprung in my eyes as my throat began to burn. "You're going to be alright sweetie, we're going to be okay."

"Why did you do this?" I asked quietly. "Why did you do this to me?"

"Because I wanted to give you a family," Finnick answered.

"I have a family." My two beautiful children, Katniss, Cato, even Clove, were my family. Finnick laughed and shook his head.

"I don't mean them," he said. "I mean a proper family. A family that _isn't_ a mess."

"My family isn't a mess," I snapped, pulling away from the bin and letting it drop to the floor. "They're perfect." Finnick smiled again with a look in his eyes that said, 'Oh poor, naive little Peeta.'

"A marriage based on the fact you knocked the woman up? Years spent as a prostitute? A sex addicted wife? Cheating on your wife with a man? Then divorcing your wife for said man, even though he's a violent idiot? Yes, that sounds very perfect," Finnick replied.

His words rattled something inside me and I felt a 'papa bear desperate to protect his cubs' instinct growing inside me. "You know what? Yes, it does," I snapped. "I did not marry Katniss because she got pregnant with Jennifer, I married her because I did love her at one point in my life. Her getting pregnant reminded me of how much I did love her, so we got married! And you of all people should know to _never_ throw my life as a prostitute in my fucking face! You _know_ it was because we needed the money-"

"Don't forget who provided most of that money," Finnick reminded. I scowled at him and he quirked an eyebrow at me, telling me to continue.

"And I'm sure you know that Johanna poisoned Katniss with what ever the fuck she gave her when they were friends," I continued. "And that's why she developed her sex addiction, or did she not share that little detail with you?"

Finnick smirked. "She told me."

"And how _dare_ you talk about my cheating on Katniss!" I snapped. "My relationship with Katniss was rocky. I knew it, she knew it. Her mind was clouded with arousal and she couldn't keep her hands off me-"

"Can you blame her?" Finnick interuppted.

"Oh my god, _seriously?!_" I exclaimed. Finnick shrugged and winked. "_Anyway_, in the end everything was just leading up to my meeting Cato. It was inevitable and I'm glad it happened. I tried to stay loyal to Katniss but I loved Cato more. Plus, I didn't divorce her, _she_ divorced me thank you very much. Because _she_ wanted me to be happy! Unlike _some_ people!"

I was right up in Finnick's face now, fuming with anger. Everything was just becoming so hard to handle. What with being kidnapped and offically recorded as Finnick's property, to being somehow _inpregnated_-I was still wrapping my head around that one-by him, to him _insulting_ my _family._ It was only a matter of time before I lost the plot.

"And I can't believe you are such a _hypocrite _to have the gall to call Cato a violent idiot! Have you looked yourself in the mirror recently?" I asked. "The amount of times you've hit me, beat me, whipped me, smacked me, and scarred me and you think _Cato's_ the violent one? He never hurt me unless I asked him to and frankly, when he hits me during sex, I actually like it unlike when _you_ did. You know why? I trust him and I _love _him! You know what love is right? That emotion people get when they gueninely care about each other and protect each other to the end of the earth? Of course you don't because _you_ believe that whatever the hell you feel towards me is fucking love when I have _no _idea what the hell it is-"

I yelped as Finnick wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into his lap. "Keep going baby," he murmered huskily, "let it all out."

I paused, wondering why he was letting me scream at him. Something hard pressed against my crotch as he held me close to him and I groaned. "Oh please tell me this isn't getting you off."

"It's your fault," Finnick replied, nestling his head in the crook of my neck. "You're so hot when you're angry."

"Oh joy," I said sarcastically. "I try and get a point across and you fucking get turned on."

"So, when Cato hits you," Finnick murmered, tracing patterns on the small of my back, "you like it?" I bit my lip, regretting mentioning that at all. I don't think that much when I'm angry and words just pour out of my mouth. "Now that doesn't sound like you at all."

"Yes, I do like it," I said. "But emphasis on the _Cato_ part of that equation."

"We really should fix that," Finnick purred. "I'm going to have to get you to be able to scream my name again, not _his_." He pressed his hand harder against me, his fingers splayed out on my back, pushing me flush against him.

"Never going to happen," I growled at him.

"You think that," he replied. "But I'll soon fix that. Once the baby is born I'll probably go back to my apartment and get some of my equipment back."

"Oh how considerate of you," I said, still not fully believeing that I was pregnant. "What you gonna do until then? Put your right hand into more use than usual?"

"Har de har har," Finnick replied dryly. "You do realize that you are able to have sex even when you're pregnant? All the same rules apply if you were a woman."

"But I'm not a woman," I contradicted.

Finnick smiled. "You'd make a hot woman," he said.

I rolled my eyes. "Completely not the point."

Sighing, Finnick rolled his eyes too. "I know, I know," he replied. "We should be celebrating."

"What?" I frowned.

"Your pregnancy of course," he said. "The serum was designed to never fail." His eyes twinkled as he stared at me happily. I felt sick again. I could practically feel the blood drain from my face. Finnick saw this too and pulled my head down so my chin rested against his shoulder. "Ssh, baby, it's alright, everything's going to be okay. We're going to be a family." He rocked me back and forth as if he was already holding the baby in his arms.

A family.

A family.

A family with _Finnick._

A baby.

A child.

Then it finally sank in.

I was pregnant.

_**A/N: If you have any questions on how Finnick got Peeta pregnant, feel free to ask. I tried to cover everything but if you're still confused just ask me :-)**_

_**Teaser:**_

_**"Cato, we need to take him to the police," Clove frowned. "Get him arrested."**_

_**"No," I said through gritted teeth. "Getting arrested isn't enough for the sick fucker. He deserves to suffer the way he's made Peeta suffer."**_

_**Clove didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean?"**_

_**"I mean, when I catch him, I'm going to make him suffer." I turned to look my collegue in the eye. "And nothing nor no one is going to stop me."**_

_**Please R&R! :D**_


	15. The Video Tape

_**A/N: Cato's torture ideas during his rant all came from the dark mind of one of my fellow reviewers, DrunkenAssasian. Keep 'em comimg ^_^**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**_

Chapter Fifteen: The video tape

_**Cato: A couple hours later:**_

"We need to discuss what we're going to with Odair until this celebration thing is over and we can take him to 12 to pay for his crimes," Clove said as we walked down the road. We had no means of transport and had taken to walking everywhere. It was hard on Clove-occasionally I'd have to carry her-but we were covering a lot of ground. "I think, at this point, he could get a life sentence."

"We're not arresting him," I said.

Clove stopped and frowned. "What?"

"I said we're not arresting him," I repeated.

"Cato, we need to take him to the police," Clove frowned. "Get him arrested."

"No," I said through gritted teeth. "Getting arrested isn't enough for the sick fucker. He deserves to suffer the way he's made Peeta suffer."

Clove didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, when I catch him, I'm going to make him suffer." I turned to look my collegue in the eye. "And nothing nor no one is going to stop me."

Clove took a good look at me and for once in the entire time we've known each other, she looked scared of me. "What are you going to do to him?" she whispered.

"I don't know," I replied. "Use a pair of plyers to rip out his bellybutton or maybe glue him to a leather car seat and push it down a hill so that when he reaches for the wheel or brakes his skin rips off, or _or _cut off his tongue, shove lemon juice down his throat and duct tap his mouth shut so he chokes on his own vomit, nothing Clove, _nothing_ will be ever be enough to make him pay for what he's done to Peeta!"

"You're losing your mind Cato," Clove said.

"Maybe I'am," I said, my voice bordering on hysterical. "What does it matter? Finnick's gonna pay whether I'm right of mind or not." Clove looked pained to see me the way I was. I couldn't help it though, all I wanted was to make Finnick Odair suffer the way he made Peeta suffer. "He hurt him Clove. He hurt _my_ Peeta. No one is going to get in my way when I get my hands around the bastard's throat. Are _you_ going to try and get in the way?"

Clove folded her arms and lowered her gaze to stare the ground. "What's happened you Cato?" she asked. "You used to never be like this. Even if we went back to 12 and did what you're inciuiaitng there will still be threat of _you_ getting _yourself_ arrested! Cruel and unusual punishment Cato!"

A dark cloud passed over the District and small droplets of rain began to fall. The weather seemed to have decided to match my mood: dark, depressed, sorrowful.

"You're going to defend Odair on the basis of the fact of cruel and unusual _punishmet?!_" I snapped at her. "You saw what was in his apartment right? You took photos of the claiming scars didn't you? Look me in the eye right now and tell me that he does not deserve everything that is coming to him!"

Clove looked me in the eyes and clenched her jaw. "Of course he deserves it. He deserves all of it. But we can't do it. We can't stoop to his level-"

"Why not?" I interuppted. "I should have fucking shot him in the Mafia headquaters and have been done with it!" Clove grabbed my arm and dragged me underneath a tree to stop us from getting wet.

"I know you wouldn't have done that anyway," she said. "Cato, _please understand!_ We're dealing with a sociopath here. He loves Peeta. Whether you like it or not in some twisted fucking way Finnick Odair is in love with Peeta but he has _no_ idea how to treat a person properly. In his mind, pleasure comes first. It always has and it probaby always will. But the only person he wants is the same as the only person you want. Can you imagine trying to have sex with someone else when you're horny? Can you imagine getting turned on by anyone else? Answer seriously, could you? I know you couldn't."

"Of course I couldn't," I muttered.

Clove nodded her head. "It's the same for Finnick. In his eyes, you're the intruder. You're the problem. He did know Peeta long before you did. He fell for him long before you did. To him, you're some blundering fool who stumbled in later and took his lover away from him."

"If he loves him so much, why can't he let Peeta go and stop hurting him then?" I was pissed off because I knew she was right. Every word that was coming out of Clove's mouth was true. And it hurt.

Clove's hazel eyes softened. "I don't know. I honestly don't. Love is a strange thing . . . I think, in his mind, he can't accept the fact that Peeta doesn't love him and he's convinced himself that there's something . . . I don't know . . . a mental instablity or something like that that has made Peeta incapable of knowing what he wants. Plus, desire is a complex thing, he probably enjoys witnessing the man he loves in pain and that's why he doesn't stop hurting him. The pain turns him on."

Something inside me snapped and brought tears to my eyes. I didn't cry often and Clove knew this. Even at my mother's funeral I was able to keep an indifferent face, but this? No, it was too much. I couldn't handle it. "I just want Finnick to get what he deserves."

Clove's shoulders slumped in defeat. "I know," she whispered. "I do too."

"I just want Peeta back," I said helplessly.

Clove then did something I wasn't expecting. She hugged me. Clove and I had been friends for years but physical comfort between us was sparse. It just wasn't our style. So I was surprised when she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me.

"I know you do," she whispered. "And you're being very brave for someone who has now had this happen to them twice. But there has to be some other way to punish Odair without physically hurting him. We'll figure something out, okay?"

The rain was getting heavier and had begun dripping through the leaves of the tree, tapping our head and shoulders.

"Our main piority is finding somewhere to spend the night," Clove said, taking a step back.

I nodded. "Agreed."

~xXx~

Why I had put the video in I don't know. I don't understand what possessed me to take the tape out of Clove's jeans and put it into the VCR player. Maybe it was the fact that there was a VCR player in the Hotel room in the first place since they haven't been sold in years when DVDs took over. Add that onto my already burning curiosity about what was taped onto it, it wasn't long before I had begun wondering if I could remember how a VCR worked.

Clove was sleeping like a log underneath the cheap cotton duvet on the bed, so she wasn't concious of my actions to stop me. Normally I'd have her to stop me from making bad decisions. It used to happen all the time when we were kids. She stopped me from beating up a kid in grade school who had stolen her lunch. She stopped me from fucking the head cheerleader in high school because she knew that the whore was already dating the violent captain of the football team. She stopped me from denying the force transfer to District 12 Panem Pier . . .

But she wasn't awake.

So she couldn't stop me.

The screen crackled into life as soon as the tape shield snapped shut. At first I couldn't make sense of what I was seeing. It was mostly darkness, but there was a small shift of light slipping in from the top right hand corner. Like a cover over the lens of the camera. What was the point of having the camera on in the first place if it was going to be kept covered?

_"Please let me go,"_ a broken voice whispered desperately. My heart skipped a beat when I realized who it was. Peeta.

_"Sssh baby, it's alright. Everything's going to be fine."_ Finnick. Even when I could only hear his voice I wanted to strangle him.

_"It hurts." _Peeta sounded in deep pain and I desperately wanted to know what was hurting him so much.

_"I know, I know. It's okay, the doctor's going to help you."_

A different voice intercepted. _"I'm about to begin filming now okay? Since the process is new and we're still not sure if it will work properly we need to record every appointment for office records. It's also so that we don't get a law suit taken out against us."_

_"Whatever you have to do,"_ Finnick replied.

Whatever was covering the lens of the camera was taken and thrown away. The room was bright and sterile white, the obvious qualities of a clinical room. A man with chocolate brown hair and dark hazel eyes' face took up the screen as he adjusted the camera's position. Finnick appeared, looking over the man's shoulder. I was surprised about young he looked. His hair was brighter, shining under the blinding lights and looking like the sort of head of locks that could advertise a healthy pedigree dog coat. His eyes were the same though. Emerald green but shadowed over with a darkness that hid the persona of the mad man that was trapped inside.

The man with the brown hair stepped back and I could see the room properly. The walls were lined with baby blue cabinets and cupboards, medicine bottles and tools were scattered along the tops of them. Then, in the middle of the room, was a long medical table. Regulation tissue paper lined the cushions sewn to the table.

And, on top, is where Peeta sat.

He looked like a 'later' version of the photograph that Clove tore up. The same white cloth was around his wrists, cutting into his skin and causing blood to stain it. His knees were bent and his head hung heavily between them. The only piece of clothing on his body was a thin strap of fabric around his crotch and most of the skin of his back was covered in the scars from the photo. The only difference was that the wounds weren't as fresh as they were in the photo. Every so often, Peeta would flinch, as if even a slight breeze irritated his skin.

The man who's name-according to the name tag on his lab coat-was Brian Cordley, leaned against one of the cupboards with a clipboard in his hands. _"So tell me Finn, how the hell did you manage this?"_

Finnick sighed and stroked Peeta's hair affectionately. _"Couldn't help myself and went too far."_ As he spoke, I noticed that he was wearing a lab coat also, one that matched this Brian guy's.

Brian rolled his eyes and put the clipboard down. _"I can't write that,"_ he said._ "We need valid excuses to get this place up and running, not sadistic idiots whipping their lovers to a bloody pulp."_

_"Just write they were scars he's had since he was child," _Finnick waved off.

_"Hmm,"_ Brian sighed, scribbling something-persumbaly what Finnick just told him-onto the clipboard before muttering under his breath, _"I'm going to have to take that whip off you."_

_"Just shut up and get to work,"_ Finnick replied.

_"Okay, okay, keep the peace Finn,"_ Brian replied. He turned around and opened up a cupboard, rummaging inside before pulling out a box of latex gloves. He looked over his shoulder to glance at Finnick. _"Lay him down on his stomach."_

_"Come on baby, it's going to be okay,"_ Finnick said soothingly as he coached Peeta's head out from between his knees._ "Brian's gonna make the pain go away."_ Careful not to touch his back, he helped Peeta up onto his knees, placing his hand onto the blond's abdamon and lowering him gently onto the table on his stomach.

Brian approached the table and looked over each scar carefully, tracing over them with his index finger, his lips pursed in deep thought. _"These are pretty deep Finn."_

_"You can fix it though, right?"_

_"I think so."_

Chemicals were thrown together into a test tube, stirred together and shaken up. Finnick stroked Peeta, whispering what was probably comforting words into his ear. Peeta just responded every now and then with a moan of pain.

_"Goggles Brian!" _he suddenly snapped as the doctor continued to shake up the test tube without a pair of safety goggles. He was speaking as if he knew what he was talking about, like a science teacher scolding one of his students. The doctor rolled his eyes and shoved a pair of glasses on.

_"Why's his hands tied?"_ Brian asked as he shook.

_"My golden boy was just scared of coming here, that's all,"_ Finnick said.

_"I wasn't scared," _Peeta contradicted grudgingly.

Finnick smiled. _"Of course you weren't," _he said in a patronizing tone.

Brian approached them again with a tube of green liquid in his hands. _"This won't hurt a bit."_ He then carefully dropped small amounts of the stuff onto Peeta's broken back.

And that's when he started to scream.

Finnick took his face between his hands and pressed his forehead against Peeta's, murmering nonsense while the blond screamed. I watched in horror as the green serum seemed to make the scars burn away. It was almost like magic, the scars sizzled before burning away into nothing. His skin cleared and turned baby smooth once all the scars were gone. By then though my face was buried into one of the hotel's pillows. I couldn't bear hearing Peeta scream like that. It must have hurt him so much.

"Cato what are you doing?!" Clove snapped. She was suddenly sitting upright on the bed staring wide eyed at the t.v screen. "Fuck! Oh my god!" She snatched her sneaker off the floor and chucked it at the telly. It smashed into the screen and broke it. The tape was spat out of the VCR. She threw her arms over her eyes. "What the fuck were they doing to him!?"

"Removing his scars," I said dully into the pillow.

"Was it the clinic from the pamphlet?" Clove asked.

"I think it was. Before it was an established business though," I answered. "I think it was in the beginning. The first time Finnick scarred him." Clove nodded and leaned back against the headboard.

"Fuck, I'm so confused," she muttered.

"Join the club," I replied.

Clove sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "At least we know one thing," she said.

"What's that?" I asked.

"When we get Peeta back, we know how to get rid of the ownership scars," she answered. "Prove that he doesn't belong to Finnick."

"But only two people seem to know how to do it. This Brian guy and Finnick," I said.

"I thought we weren't going to arrest Odair," Clove said. "If you're going to keep him captive or whatever . . . couldn't we just force it out of him?"

I looked up at Clove and smirked. "I like your thinking."

_**A/N: Sorry for bringing Brian back if you hate OCs but I couldn't think of any one else to be Finnick's partner in crime ^_^**_

_**Preview:**_

_**Then his lips were on mine, his tongue expertly working my mouth open. I couldn't breathe and every time I tried to pull away, the hand on the back of my neck held me in place. His other hand was still against my abdamon, his fingertips grazing my hipbone.**_

_**I managed to rip my head away from him and I threw my head back to breathe. He persisted in continuing though and buired his face into my neck.**_

_**That's when the door knocked . . .**_

_**Please R&R! :D**_


	16. He's a genius

_**A/N: Chapter Sixteen! I can't believe it! :D**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**_

Chapter Sixteen: He's a genius

_**Peeta: Finnick's house: **_

_**Pregnancy: Day One, Week One:**_

I cracked my neck and knuckles. Couldn't be that bad. Just a set of stairs. No biggie. Make it look like you fell out of the wheelchair. Can't be that hard . . . right?

I couldn't bring a child into the world. Especially not to Finnick. I don't care what he says, he's not father material. His temper is short, he's violent and addicted to sex. I know what it feels like to grow up with a violent parent and it's not nice. Finnick can't gurantee that he wouldn't lay a finger on the baby and even just not being able to say it out loud is enough. It's a reflex, 'Are you going to hurt the child?' Immediately you say no. No hesitation.

Most of all, I didn't want to become my father. Not doing anything about my partner hurting our child because I'm scared of them myself. Don't get me wrong, I loved my dad but, in the end, he was a coward. He was terrified of my mother and never did anything when she'd hurt me for the simplest of things . . . and it was one of the many things I swore to myself I'd never become.

Using the banister for support, I pulled myself out of the chair, using my good leg to kick it behind me. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. The worst that can happen is that you break a limb.

Or get brain damage . . .

"Peeta?" Finnick called from somewhere down the hall. "Where are you?" Mustering all the strength I had, I pushed away from the banister and stood away from anything I could grab onto for support. There was a bang as a door swung open nearby. "Peeta!" Finnick yelled. The effect was almost instant. My leg gave out under my weight and my body fell forward. I shut my eyes tight and let myself fall.

Falling down the stairs was a weird sensation. Like doing a thousand tumble overs at once, never stopping and not doing them right so that you hit every part of your body on the way down. My right shoulder took the worst of it and when the back of my head hit against the wall at the bottom, the pain spread all the way to my fingertips and across my chest.

Footsteps thundered down the stairs and my eyes took in two Finnick's as my vision slid in and out of focus. Both of them crouched before me-their faces a picture of concern-and checked my pulse. The last thing I remembered was Finnick cursing and running off before everything went dark.

~xXx~

Something cold was against my forehead. My head was hurting, a sharp pain jabbing into the back of my head with every beat of my pulse. Something warm was weighing down my body, a blanket or duvet of some sort. I did a swift inventory and noted that my right shoulder was aching-very likely dislocated- that my prostetic wasn't on and someone was holding my left arm, their thumb pressing into the vein in my wrist.

Hopefully, the pain was worth it and there was no longer a baby inside me.

"Why'd you do that baby," Finnick murmered, wiping whatever the source of the coldness was across my forehead. It felt so soothing, I instinctly pressed my head against the cool object. "You could have killed yourself."

"Worst case senario," I murmered.

"You're such an idiot you know that?"

I would have rolled my eyes if they weren't closed. "The baby?" I asked.

"Alive," Finnick replied. "Barely. You have no idea how much of a close call it was."

My heart sank. I just threw myself down the stairs for nothing. The whole point was to have a miscarriage, whatever injuries I sustained along the way being worth it, and now I had nothing to show for it. There was still a human being growing inside me.

"I know what you were trying to do," Finnick said. My eyes fluttered open groggily and I stared at him tiredly. He put down an icepack-obviously the cold object-and framed my face in his hands. "I know it's scary but you can't go throwing yourself down the stairs just because you're frightened."

"I don't want to carry a baby Finnick," I replied. Tears filled my eyes and I blinked them back. He was right, I was scared. Not just for myself but for the baby. What sort of world was it going to be raised in if it survived the next nine months?

"It'll all be worth it," he assured, brushing his nose against mine.

"I really don't think it will be," I said. Finnick smiled and climbed into the bed beside me, pulling me to him and holding my body close to his.

"It will be, I promise," he whispered.

"What about Jennifer and Josh?" I asked. "They're my kids as well Finnick. I can't just abandon them and start a family with you."

"Yes you can," Finnick replied. "Like a fresh start."

I shook my head. "But I don't want a fresh start."

"We're going to be okay baby," he said, ignoring me. "One big happy family." He pressed long, lingering kisses on my cheek, under my jaw, the side of my throat. He slid down under the covers, continueing to kiss my chest until his face was level with my stomach. He wound his arms around my waist and rested his cheek against my abdamon. "Daddy didn't mean to try and kill you," he murmered into my sleep shirt. "Daddy loves you just like I do."

The sentiment caught me by surprise. I'd done this to Katniss in the past when she was pregnant with both our kids-especially when we were starving and we thought Josh was going to die before he was even born-but it wasn't the sort of thing I'd have expected off Finnick.

"Daddy just needs some time to accept that you're real and that you're coming," he continued. He nuzzled his nose against me and I shivered. It was too surreal to handle. To think that right this very moment, a fetus was growing and evolving into a baby inside me . . .

I blinked, and suddenly Finnick was hovering above me. I was taken aback and squeaked in shock. His knees enclosed both of my legs (well, leg and half leg) and he was supporting his weight on his hands resting on the bed by both sides of my head. I noticed that he wasn't lying ontop of me like he'd usually be. Whether this was because of the baby or some decision to have a change, I didn't know, but it was intimidating.

"You're going to make an amazing dad," he murmered.

"You've said," I replied, fighting to keep the tremour in my voice at bay. "I mean, it's not like I'm not already a dad or anything, right?"

"Exactly," Finnick answered. I frowned. He obviously didn't catch the sarcasm in that statement. Sitting up so he sat on my hips, Finnick's hands trailed lightly down my sides until they reached where the sleep shirt met the pyjama pants and pushed the hem up to my chest. "Can you believe it?" he whispered, ghosting his hands over my stomach. "You're the first, baby. The first pregnant man."

I wanted to point out that that was technically wrong because hundreds of years ago-in the twenty first century I think-a woman got a sex change without realizing she was pregnant, becoming the first pregnant man. Then again, she still had her woman parts, so there was an ongoing debate on whether it really counted as being a pregnant man or not.

"I'm thinking of making the serum into a product," Finnick explained. "Like Brian and I did with the Lazor Scar removal."

I winced at the memory of Finnick's old flame working in the laboratory to remove the scars on my back. When I was Finnick's cilent, he was an experimental scientist, and Brian was his partner. I learnt to never underestimate Finnick's mind because, as crazy and sick as it was, it was also very intelligent. When I googled him out of curiousity after my second time with him, a newspaper article had shown up, showcasing how fourteen year old Finnick Odair was commended for winning a Stevenson Award for Science and Technology. And those awards were normally won by forty year old men and women.

Finnick was a genius.

And, apparently, so was Brian. They'd began working together when they had a brief 'friends with benefits' relationship and Finnick's sadism fetish had ended up leaving a scar across Brian's cheek. Angry with the marr on his face, Brian demanded they figure out a way to make it disappear.

And that's when they began working on the scar removal medication.

I almost felt my back burn with the memory of the serum dripping onto the whip scars and sizzling through my skin, almost like acid seeping into my bones. Nowadays, the treatment isn't in liquid form. Brian and Finnick developed it into a lazor therapy that could be dolled out over a certain amount of appointments, depending on depth and severity of the scar.

It made millions in Districts 3 and 4.

I was never a fan of Brian and Finnick's relationship. Alma claimed it was just jealousy, which I knew it definietly was _not._ The feeling worsened the day Finnick whipped me to a bloody pulp and had to take me Brian's private lab to sort out the scars. The man seemed to already know me . . . as if Finnick had been talking about me to him.

The next day, I was forced into a threesome.

"You could be the speciman as proof that it works," he said.

"You mean like I was for the scar removal?" I scoffed bitterly. "Just a stupid lab rat."

"A beautiful lab rat," Finnick purred. He stroked my stomach affectionately, his eyes gleaming with joy. "This is bigger than just scar removal. You could be on t.v and all. The first _real_ pregnant man."

"What?!" I exclaimed, bolting up on the bed. I nearly bumped heads with him but he grabbed the back of my neck and stopped me. "I'am _not_ going on t.v because of . . . _this!_"

Finnick smiled softly at me, tracing over the scarred 'F'. He didn't respond, he just pressed his lips to the tip of my nose. Then his lips were on mine, his tongue expertly working my mouth open. I couldn't breathe and every time I tried to pull away, the hand on the back of my neck held me in place. His other hand was still against my abdamon, his fingertips grazing my hipbone. I managed to rip my head away from him and I threw it back to breathe. He persisted in continuing though and buired his face into my neck.

That's when the door knocked.

Finnick groaned and licked up my jaw so his lips whispered against my ear, "Do you think it'd be awful to ignore it?"

"Yes," I answered bluntly. There was nothing more I wanted than to have him away from me so I could have some space. His hand slipped up from my neck and buried itself into my hair while he nibbled on my earlobe. I squirmed uncomfortably and tried to push him away from me.

Another knock. Harder. Most persistant.

Ignoring it again, the hand on my stomach brushed up and under my shirt, his fingers rubbing my nipple until it was achingly taut under his hand. "Finnick," I groaned, wanting to be anywhere but here. "Answer the _door._"

"No," he murmered against my neck. He pinched the now sensitive nub and I squeaked.

A third knock. Whoever was at the door, they certainly weren't going to leave.

"Please," I whimpered. "Just do it."

Groaning loudly, Finnick kissed under my jaw and tugged my hair. "Fine," he moaned. He relunctantly pulled away and pressed a kiss to my lips, folding my bottom lip into his mouth and sucking on it like a lollipop. When he sat back, a string of saliva snapped between us and I winced at it.

He climbed off me and stopped by the door, smirking. The bulge in his pants was obvious but he didn't seem too bothered. "Don't go anywhere," he said.

My eyes flicked down to where my leg ended and where the prostetic should begin if he hadn't of taken it off me. "Does it look like I can go anywhere?" I snapped in reply. Finnick grinned and winked before disappearing down the stairs to the front door.

"What are you doing here?" I heard him ask the person at the door.

"I heard the Mafia gave you a lab to work on the serum with and that you'd used it on your boyfriend," the person said. My blood turned to ice as I recognized the voice.

Brian was downstairs.

"Yes," Finnick sighed. "And it worked."

"Really?" Brian sounded shocked to hear that the serum was successful. "Can I see for myself? Knowing you Finn, you could be lying. You're all talk half the time."

There's a pause before Finnick responded.

"Fine," he said.

My heart picked up into a frenzy as I heard the footsteps thudding up the stairs. I twisted around and dug my fingernails into the wallpaper by the headboard of the bed, using the leverage to pull myself up to stand on the bed. Something about sitting now felt too vulnerable and weak. My back pressed against the wall and I kept my nails stuck in the paper to keep myself up. I hadn't stood without my leg yet and it felt strange. Finnick must have rolled the pyjama leg up as the material was folded up around the stump.

Brian came into the room first and just the sight of him again nearly made me pass out. Memories clouded my mind of how he had drove into me almost as hard as Finnick did while Finnick himself sucked me off. I could almost feel each painful thrust as I stared at him and winced at the thought of how he pulled my hair, groaning about how hot it was to have such bright locks.

He took in the sight of my dishelved state, then looked at Finnick's crotch as he entered after him. "Did I interuppt something?"

"Yes," Finnick said dully.

"Oops, sorry."

"You should be."

Brian's eyes flicked back to me. "Hey, how's things . . . what is it? Golden Kid?"

Finnick scowled and pulled my hands away from the wallpaper. I yelped as I lost my balance but he caught me as I fell, gently lowering me back to the bed so I was lying on my back. "It's Golden boy and only I'm allowed to call him that."

Brian rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"Can we just do this and get it over with?" Finnick asked irritabley, his hard-on probably starting to frustrate him. He pulled my shirt right up to under my chin and took my head into his hands, tilting it straight so all I could do was stare at the ceiling. Taking one hand away, he slipped it under to the small of my back and pushed up so I was lying straight as a board.

Brian took my wrist and pressed his thumb against the vein, whispering numbers under his breath as he counted the beat of my pulse. After a minute, he muttered something about it being slightly irregular-I wasn't surprised, I was freaking out and my heart was going a million an hour.

I tensed up as his hand glided smoothly along my stomach. "Someone's certainly been working out since the last time I seen them, haven't they?"

My head snapped up and I glared at him. Finnick sighed heavily and pressed his hand under my chin to tilt it back up to the ceiling. "Don't patronize him," he said.

"Oh yeah, cuz' it's not like you do that all the time," Brian replied sarcastically. His index finger traced over the 'O' below my navel and I twitched. "So you did it then?" he asked quietly.

"Obviously," Finnick replied. "Don't get jealous, I don't have time to deal with that."

"I'm not jealous." Brian poked my chest-harder than I think was nessecary-and I yelped. "Right, let's see." I felt his fingertips mapping out strategic patterns on my stomach and I wondered what they meant. He pressed his index finger in the space between my abs and pressed down hard. Something shocked me from that spot right up into my chest, almost like something kicking me from inside and I groaned in pain. "Yup, there's definitely a fetus in there."

"I told you," Finnick said sourly. He kept my head up as Brian pressed his ear against my stomach, as if listening for something.

"Fascinating," he murmered. "It worked."

"No thanks to you," Finnick muttered.

Brian stood up. "Hey, I did my best."

"Which obviously wasn't good enough! Which is also why I'm not crediting you when I make the discovery public. You gave up on it!"

"I did not! I took a break!"

"What? A two year break?!"

"Don't be a prick."

"Only if you stop being such a dickhead."

There was suddenly dead silence and I blinked at the ceiling, wondering what was happening. Slowly, the soft squelching of saliva being swapped was heard and I realized with a shudder that they were making out. Finnick took never resist someone being angry with him and being filled with rage himself just added to the sexual tension in the room.

The hand holding my head up slipped away and rested against my chest. I cracked my neck and tried to sit up, but freaked out when Finnick wouldn't let me up. Brian had a fistful of Finnick's hair and was pressing his lips against his. I turned my nose up and looked away, disgusted. Finnick trailed his hand back into my hair, running his fingers through it and stroking my head. He ripped his lips off of Brian's and looked down at me with eyes blown up with lust.

"Fuck it," he muttered before grabbing my shirt, pulling me to sit upright and smashing his lips against mine. I jumped in alarm and struggled against him. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I realized Brian was behind me.

I felt light headed as I remembered what happened the last time Brian stood behind me. The way he'd groped my body and pounded into me burned into my mind.

"You know how happy it is for me to see my Finn happy?" he whispered into my ear. His hand trailed down my back and I shivered. Finnick's face was currently buried in the crook of my neck and I was gasping for breath as he bit my skin.

"No, I don't," I gasped.

"Very happy," Brian said. He rubbed my arms as they trembled under supporting my weight. "And anything that makes Finn happy makes me happy."

Finnick groaned his approval, sucking on the tender skin where my neck connected to my shoulder. I whimpered and struggled to get out from the trap between them, not liking where this was going at all.

I don't think I'd be able to handle another threesome.

_**Cato: Same time: Suburbs:**_

"This is the house," Clove murmered. We stood on the pavement outside a quaint house in a suburban street. It didn't look like a house that could harbour a physchopath but, then again, looks could be disceiving. "So, are we just going in all guns blazing?"

I glanced up and saw a window at the top left corner of the house where a light was on. Peeta could be in there. Right now. I couldn't handle being careful.

"Yes," I said. "All guns blazing."

Clove nodded and kicked the gate open with her walking stick. We both exchanged a look at the door before I raised my foot and kicked it. The hinges burst open and the door ripped in half.

"Police!" Clove yelled inside.

And we entered the house.

_**A/N: Ooooh, things just got serious! So, I brought Brian in to confirm once and for all that Peeta is, indeed, pregnant ^_^**_

_**Preview:**_

_**He was trapped between two bodies. I couldn't believe it. He looked broken, silent tears streaming down his face as his head was held backwards by his hair as lips relentlessly attackled the skin of his neck, tongue swirling around his adam's apple and up his chin.**_

_**My eyes followed the hands as they grabbed and squeezed without much thought, blind blundering in a lust-filled haze. His clothes were a mess, pyjama pants dipping down to reveal his upper thigh, shirt ridden up to expose his abs, shirt sleeve pushed down to accomodate the mouth sucking on his shoulder.**_

_**My entire being filled with rage, boiling over like a pot left on the stove too long. **_

_**Bitches were gonna die tonight.**_

_**Please R&R! :D**_


	17. Wasted Talent

_**A/N: So guys, Rusted Gold is reaching it's end. I know, I know, it's sad. I had planned for there to be more but the story is slowing escaping me and I don't want to have to end it or discontinue it. So there shall be a couple more chapters and then it shall be over.**_

_**Don't despair though! I have another Cato/Peeta idea in the works! I shall write the summary in the bottom A/N.**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**_

Chapter Seventeen-Wasted Talent

_**Cato: Finnick's house in the suburbs:**_

The house was eerily silent downstairs, almost empty. Nobody seemed to be home.

The entrance wasn't much. Just a small hall with red persian carpet covering the floor and a coat stand in the corner. Clove pressed herself against the wall beside the first door to the right, holding her walking stick in a defensive stance before whirling around and kicking the door open. I covered her back as she entered.

No one was in the room. It looked like a living room of some description. A white leather sofa was pushed up against the large window on the right wall, the moonlight streaming in making the material glow like a nyan marker. A plasma screen t.v sat directly oppisote, flanked by two lounger chairs that matched the sofa.

I noticed, with a grimace, that this was most definitely Finnick Odair's house. He'd set the whole place up like a proper family home. Photos of him and Peeta were littered everywhere, framed on the walls, covering the hearth of the fireplace. I wondered what fascinated Finnick about taking so many photographs. It was almost like he was trying to make up for lost years of time he'd missed with Peeta.

From the photos alone, I knew that Odair wasn't fond of outsiders being inside his house. It was almost like he didn't intend for anyone apart from himself and Peeta to be the occupants of the home. Judging by the graphic material some of the pictures contained, it was definietly a possibility. Clove examined some of the ones on the wall and frowned in disgust.

"Okay, we can add, 'Indescent photography without consent,' to that list for sure," she muttered, running her index finger along the elegant design carved into one of the frames. "I mean, look at all this evidence!"

I turned to the photo she was looking at. Odair had his work cut out for him, I knew that much. He'd captured Peeta in a surprised moment. It seemed the blond had just turned around when the photo was snapped, but the shock on his face was perfect. It was after sex, that much was obvious. His hair was scruffed up, the way it looked when hands had been through it, and his lips were full and looked thouroughly kissed. The blue of his eyes glittered from the throwback of the flash.

Clove ran her fingers over the photo and sighed. "It's so sad," she murmered. "How much he's gone through, I mean."

Other photos weren't as leaniet when it came to how graphic the image was. Another thing I noted about Odair: He was skilled with photoshop.

I knew for a fact which photos were real and which weren't. It wasn't that he made a mistake that gave away the reality of the picture, I just knew in my gut that they weren't real. A lot of the sadistic and hard-core ones weren't real. I knew that there was no way Peeta would have let them be taken, even if most of the time he probably didn't have a choice in the matter.

Clove and I were just about to head back out into the hall when a bright scarlet frame caught my eye. It hung behind the door so I missed it on the way into the living room but now that the door was shut, I could see it clearly.

It was Peeta and I's bedroom. Back in 12. It was night time but the window was open as usual, the blinds billowing in the wind. Our bed was where it normally was, pushed up against the back wall, and the bedside lamp was switched on. Peeta sat on the bed, blinded folded with the orange silk fabric that he'd put on that day Finnick broke into our room. His mouth was parted in pleasure as his back arched off the mattress, beads of sweat gliding down the side of his face and between his abs. His wrists were tied to the headboard, his legs spread wide open unabashedly.

Finnick stood by in the picture, leaning against the wardrobe with a smirk on his face. And, with a start, I saw that I was there too. In the reflection of the mirror beside the wardrobe, I saw myself, sitting on the floor, gagged and bound, anger blaring in my eyes.

I leaned in closer to the picture and realized: These weren't photoshopped images. They were paintings.

Finnick could paint. Just as realistically as Peeta.

Taking the painting off the wall, I broke it in half on my knee, throwing it away onto the sofa. Clove's eyes followed the debris as it landed on the cushions. Her eyebrows bowed into a frown and she eased herself to the floor. She stuck her hand underneath the seatette and gasped as she found purchase on something.

"What is it?" I asked.

Clove stood up and turned her palm around. In her hand was a handheld pistol. "He's armed the house."

That's when we heard it. A moan. A deep, throaty moan coming from directly overhead. Not even stopping to think, I snatched the weapon out of Clove's hand and ran up the stairs two at a time. The door was open a crack so light streamed out in a slit in the hall. I was all ready to go in and let rip when something made me pause.

"I didn't appreciate you trying to kill the baby," Finnick murmered. I inched closer and stood by the door, listening.

"You know I was doing it for it's own good," Peeta whimpered in reply. Hearing him speak almost made me burst in but I held myself back.

Peeta tried to kill . . . a baby?

"You do realize I'm going to have to punish you for this?" Finnick said, his tone taking on a veil of authority. A voice demanding to be heard and obeyed.

"Can I help?" Another voice purred. One I vaguely recognized from the video tape. Brian Cordley from the scar removal clinic.

"You're really going to punish me while I'm pregnant?" Peeta asked in disgust.

Hold. The. Fuck. Up.

What?!

I peered through the gap in the door and my heart dropped into my stomach.

"Cato!" Clove hissed. I glanced over my shoulder at her and she tossed me a small packet. "Stun bullets. Don't kill. Just knock out." I nodded and loaded the gun with the bullets, turning my attention back to the gap in the door.

To where my attention focused on Peeta.

He was trapped between two bodies. I couldn't believe it. He looked broken, silent tears streaming down his face as his head was held backwards by his hair and as lips relentlessly attacked the skin of his neck, tongue swirling around his adam's apple and up his chin.

My eyes followed the hands as they grabbed and squeezed without much thought, blind blundering in a lust-filled haze. His clothes were a mess, pyjama pants dipping down to reveal his upper thigh, shirt ridden up to expose his abs, shirt sleeve pushed down to accomodate the mouth sucking on his shoulder.

My entire being filled with rage, boiling over like a pot left on the stove too long.

Bitches were gonna die tonight.

I funnelled my rage down into the all mighty kick I gave the door. Statisfied when it flies off it's hinges and crashes into a dressing table by the door frame, I barge in with the gun held in front of me. Brian, as if specially trained to react to things like this, jumps down onto his hands and knees on the floor and grabs another gun out from underneath the bed.

"Who are you!?" he yelled as he fumbled with the weapon.

I smirked. "Detective Cato Hadley bitch," I said, pressing down on the trigger of the pistol and hitting the brunette square between the eyes with a stun bullet. The man dropped to the floor almost immediately. "And you messed with the wrong cop."

I turned to Finnick, gun in hand, to find him standing calmly by the bed with his arm wrapped around Peeta's neck. Peeta was gasping and scrabbling at the man's arm with his fingernails. "Let him go Odair," Clove warned from behind me. "And let's do this the easy way, okay?"

"Why? There's a hard way?" Finnick asked, raising his eyebrows. "I've always loved the hard way."

"Stop messing about, Odair," I snapped. "Or you'll end up on the floor like your friend there."

"Cato-" Peeta gasped, choking when Finnick tightened his hold and cut off his voice.

"If a single bullet comes out of that gun then I'll let my Golden Boy take the hit," Finnick said.

"Don't be a coward," Clove snapped.

Finnick smirked and used his spare hand to reach behind himself, dragging Peeta's prostetic leg round with him. He swiftly reattatched the metal leg and Peeta looked slightly more comfortable, his face melting into that of momentary relief before tensing back up into fear. "There, that's better, isn't it baby?" Finnick smiled and kissed his cheek.

It was the simplest of pecks but it was enough to make me boil over with anger. "I swear to fuck Odair if you don't let him go I'm going to beat the living shit out of you as soon as I get my hands on you!"

"Ooops, someone's jealous," Finnick smirked.

"You're the fucking jealous one!" Clove snapped, waving her stick at him dramatically.

"Okay, less of the dramatics, honey," Finnick said, his voice dripping in condescension. Clove growled and took a step toward him. I held her back with my free arm.

"Just hand him over and no one gets hurt," I lied.

"Ha! You think I'll believe that?" Finnick scoffed. "I know what you're like. Right now there's nothing more you want than to beat the living day lights out of me. In a way, we're the same."

"We are not the same!" I snapped.

"Oh, but we are," Finnick said. "Short tempered and violent? Both in love with our little Golden Boy?"

"Is that a reference to my height?" Peeta gasped, pulling on the arm around his neck. "Because it's not funny!"

Finnick chuckled. "Of course not baby," he replied. "Your height is just perfect."

"Oh spare me," Clove said.

"How much do you love him really Hadley?" Finnick asked. "Would you stick with him even if you knew that he was knocked up?"

I scoffed. "It's not a stupid Soap Odair. Peeta can't get pregnant, or didn't they teach you about things like that at school?"

Finnick burst out laughing. "Of course not(!) But, you know, since I'm so clever and all that, I made it possible. Didn't I Peet?"

My eyes flicked to Peeta, waiting for him to brush it off just like I had done but instead I find him looking at the floor, his face grave. Finnick pressed his index finger into the blond's stomach, and Peeta doubled over, groaning in pain. Finnick smirked and let him drop to the floor on his hands and knees.

"He's right Cato," Peeta gasped, clutching his stomach. "I'm pregnant."

"Holy fuck," I muttered.

Finnick winked and held his arms out. "Take me then. It'll be nice to see you raise a little baby Odair of your own."

"You sick fucker," Clove snapped. She marched toward him and whacked him across the face with her stick. Finnick's head jerked to the side and in the small moment of relapse, I shot a stun bullet into his neck. He dropped to the ground like a sack of spuds.

"Lock him up in the basement," I said. "I want him restrained before he wakes up."

Clove nodded and dragged both Finnick and Brian out of the room with shocking strength. As soon as the door closed behind her, I was on my knees, pulling Peeta into my arms. I smashed my lips against his desperately, kissing him roughly. His hands were everywhere, palming my back and sides as if checking I was really here with him.

"I can't believe you found us!" he cried when he pulled away for breath.

"Did you really think I'd give up?" I replied. "I'd never give up on finding you." Peeta buried his face into my chest and whimpered. "Is it true? I mean, are you . . . ah . . . pregnant?"

"Y-yeah," Peeta whispered. "I'am."

"How?!"

"It's complicated," he mumbled. "I understand if it makes you not want to be with me anymore. It's Finnick's baby for god's sake!"

The fact that he thought I wouldn't stay with him hurt. I framed his face in my hands and rested my forehead against his. "I'm going to stay with you. I love you Peeta, I wouldn't leave you for anything."

"But the baby-"

"Finnick won't be able to touch a hair on it's head once he's arrested in 12. I'm sure we could . . . look after the kid together . . ."

Peeta shook his head. "No, we can't. I'll just throw myself down the stairs again." He moved to get up but I held him tighter.

"No! Don't do that!" I exclaimed. "How about adoption?"

"I g-guess that's an option . . "

I nodded and kissed the top of his head. "We're going to get through this, I promise. There's no need for anything drastic." I rubbed his back comfortingly and nuzzled my nose into his hair.

"Wh-what about Finnick?" Peeta whispered.

"Don't worry about him," I said. "We're going to give him a taste of his own medicine."

~xXx~

"Are any of these real?" I asked as Clove took down paintings and photographs from the living room walls. Peeta sat on the sofa with a blanket around his shoulders. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously and looked at the pictures.

"You'd be surprised," he replied. "Only a few of the paintings are fake."

Clove frowned and ran her fingertips over a painting above the fireplace. "Is this you . . . ?"

"Handcuffed to a radiator? Yes."

"You want to break it? Or a different one?" I asked. "I'm sure it wouldn't hinder the evidence if you broke one?"

Peeta shrugged. "What's the point? They're just paintings."

"It might make you feel better," Clove said. "Cato already broke one."

Peeta looked at me curiously. "Which one did you break?" he asked.

"The one by the door," I answered, flicking my head to the spot by the door where the painting used to sit. Peeta winced, obviously knowing what the content of the picture had been. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.

"I'm sorry you had to see them," he said.

"You have no reason to be sorry. It's him who painted them," Clove shuddered. She turned her nose up in disgust. "Where did he learn to paint so realistically?"

I took down a smaller painting from the hearth and dropped it into a plastic bag. It was a painting of Peeta on his hands and knees-doggy style like-wearing nothing but a dark black spiked collar. His head was thrown back in ecstasy and his mouth was open mid-moan. His hair was stuck to his forehead, which was slick with sweat, and the muscles in his arms were flexed as he held his weight up on the mattress. If it hadn't been under such horrifying pretences, the painting would have seemed very arousing to me.

"I taught him," Peeta suddenly said.

"What?" I frowned, tearing my eyes away from the picture. Peeta tightened the blanket around his body and shivered.

"I taught him how to paint," he said.

"Why?" Clove asked with a frown.

"It was the only thing to keep him distracted from hurting me." He looked at me with his brilliant blue eyes and smiled softly. "I told you talent was few and far between."

"He doesn't deserve it," I muttered.

"Deserve what?"

"He isn't worthy to of had your talent shared with him."

Peeta shook his head. "It's just painting," he said.

"And look what he's done with it!" I replied. I held the bag out to him and he made a face at the painting inside it. "He's degraded you with it." Clove took the bag and put it with the others. There was barely any left now and the living room seemed eerily empty without the picture frames covering the walls.

I knelt before Peeta and took his face in my hands. "Your talent was to be able to capture the beauty of the world and use a canvas to bring it to life. Your eyes were able to catch it and make it into something magnificent and now _he's_ dirtied it all. Just like he's dirtied everything for you." Peeta blinked and pressed his forehead against mine.

"He hasn't dirtied everything."

I frown in question and he laughs softly.

"I'm better off than some people," he said. "There's people out there who get sold off and stalked but have no one to come home to. No one to rely on. Every single moment I was with Finnick I knew you were coming. I could feel it in my gut. I knew you were coming for me."

My lips found his almost instantly, softly brushing against his mouth before kissing him fully. I've missed his lips so much, it's almost as if he'd been gone for months. Clove didn't even comment on the public display of affection as she normally would. Instead, she sighed in content and continued with her work.

We have Finnick.

We're going to get the information we need. On the scar removal. On the Mafia. Everything.

The building blocks to fixing everything.

_**A/N: Yay! Things are looking up!**_

_**Teaser:**_

_**"Is this nessecary?" he grumbled. I almost missed the question as I was too busy staring at the way the thin fabric hugged his muscles, defining each one.**_

_**"We want to give him a taste of his own medicine don't we?" I asked, tearing my eyes away from his torso. "Well, this is the way to do it."**_

_**Peeta scoffed. "What? Seducing him to madness?"**_

_**I laughed. "Babe, he's not going to be able to touch you in there. If you go in there with me looking as sexy as you do right now, he's going to lose his mind." Peeta's eyes twinkled and a smile broke out across his face. "And that's exactly what's going to happen."**_

_**Summary for next C/P fic (Extract from Chapter One)**_

_**"I want a virgin," Cato said, plain and simple. "Someone I can make my mark on." His father rubbed the back of his neck nervously and stared out into the crowd of people who had come to witness the pairing. I wasn't sure why I was even there. I didn't care who the damn brute choose. My feet just sort of took me here.**_

_**"But this is District 12," his father informed him carefully, as if telling a stroppy child they couldn't get the lollipop at the store. "There are no virgins here."**_

_**"Then I'm not taking anyone," Cato concluded. The mayor's eyes widened in fear and he stepped forward to intercept.**_

_**"No need for hasty decisions," he said. "I'm sure there's a virgin somewhere here."**_

_**I ran my hand through my hair nervously, my heart beating faster than my blood vessels could keep up with. It's alright. No one knows that I'm a virgin here. I could pass off easily as someone who's had sex. The only person who knows I'am is-**_

_**"We do!" A familiar voice chimed out. My blood turned to ice as Katniss climbed onto the stage. "We have one virgin left."**_

_**"Who?" The mayor asked.**_

_**"Him." She pointed into the crowd. Right at me. My heart stopped before picking up faster than before, faster than I could even comprehend. **_

_**I risked a glance at Cato and swallowed hard when I saw him looking at me like everyone else was. His eyes gleamed with malice, a predatory gaze that made me feel small. **_

_**"Yes, he'll do just fine."**_

_**R&R and let me know what you think!**_


	18. Seducing him to Madness

_**A/N: Thanks to DrunkenAssassian for helping me come up with this all those weeks ago ^_^**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**_

Chapter Eighteen: Seducing him to madness

_**Cato: Finnick's house in the suburbs: The next day:**_

"This is ridiculous," Peeta scoffed. "I mean, I know I said I wanted to help but _really?_" Clove shrugged and continued to rummange around in Finnick's wardrobe.

"Which of these outfits drives him wild the most?" I asked, gesturing to the array of clothes in the makeshift wardrobe with my hand. Peeta frowned and ran his finger along the fabrics, contemplating the answer. Finally, he sighed and tugged out a hanger with a pair of small denim shorts clipped on and a tight white shirt with ripped sleeves.

"This," he admitted grudgingly.

"You've _wore _that?" Clove scoffed.

Peeta's gaze was full of fire as he glared at her. "Yes, I did. He made me, got a problem?" Clove grinned and shook her head, admiring the outfit.

"Do you mind awfully putting it on?" she asked. Peeta frowned.

"What?" he asked.

"It's a theory we have for torturing Odair," I explained. "Clove has him tied to a chair in the basement, no way of getting out what-so-ever."

"What about Brian?"

Clove shrugged. "Meh, I dumped him in the neighbour's backyard."

I rolled my eyes. "Real classy."

"What? He wasn't guilty of anything we can prove. That scar removal clinic has actually helped loads of people and we can't just arrest him because he used to date Finnick!" I rolled my eyes again and Clove stuck her tongue out at me.

"What exactly does putting this on achieve?" Peeta questioned, eyeing the outfit nervously.

"Put it on and we'll explain," I said. Giving me one last nervous glance, reassured when I nodded, Peeta sighed and went into the next room to put the clothes on. "What sort of outfit is that supposed to be anyway?" I called in to him.

"Don't ask," was the reply.

Clove stuck out her bottom lip and pouted. "Aw, come on, tell us, pleeeeeasseee!"

There was a pause before he responded. "You know the way in those cheesy porn videos, someone always pulls up at a dusty gas station, goes to a soda machine and wipes it on their neck to cool themselves down in stupid denim shorts?" Peeta asked.

I laughed. Now _that_ brought back memories. I stole at glance at Clove to see if she remembered and find her grinning. Once when we were kids, Clove and I went rummanging around in her big sister's bedroom and found a black cover DVD. Being the nosey children that we were, we stuck it into a portable player and ended up watching forty five minutes of porn with the start off as what Peeta had just described until Clove's mum walked in on us.

That was the day we got the 'birds and the bees' talk.

"What about it?" I asked.

"Well, it was Finnick's fantasy. Like when you have that one thing you want to do with someone in bed," Peeta replied. He stepped back into the room with his hands on his hips. "He had a freezing can of coke and everything."

I was momentarily stunned by how good the outfit looked. The white t-shirt was stretched across his chest and clung to his abs lovingly, the ripped sleeves showing off his strong arms. The garment was short though and exposed a strip of his stomach and the 'O' marked into his skin. The shorts show cased his ass perfectly and stopped mid-thigh, even to expose the way the taut muscles in his legs flexed when he moved. They hung off his waist, so I could clearly see the V of his hips.

"Damn Mellark, you look hot," Clove said, snapping her fingers jokily.

"I feel like a pratt," he stated. "I did then and I do now."

"It's just to make Finnick jealous," I said, wrapping my arms around his waist and grazing my lips across his cheek. "And maybe a bit of fun for me too."

"You know I could easily pull the pregnant card and get out of this," Peeta murmered. "I can do that now."

I found my hands moving to where this baby was supposedly growing. My palms slid around his waist and rested on his abdamon. It was almost impossible to comprehend that there was a baby growing inside of him right now.

"They say as soon as the sperm meets the egg the baby has already grown feet within a couple of hours," Peeta whispered. I smiled softly. Imagine that, already having feet.

"Sooo," Clove said awkwardly. "Are we going to get this show on the road or what?"

"Okay," I replied. "Let's go."

~xXx~

Peeta picked and plucked at the restricting garments still clinging to his body as we stopped outside the basement door. Clove stayed upstairs, not wanting to witness what she called, 'Gay hour underground.'

"Is this nessecary?" he grumbled. I almost missed the question as I was too busy staring at the way the thin fabric hugged his muscles, defining each one.

"We want to give him a taste of his own medicine don't we?" I asked, tearing my eyes away from his torso. "Well, this is the way to do it."

Peeta scoffed. "What? Seducing him to madness?"

I laughed. "Babe, he's not going to be able to touch you in there. If you go in there with me looking as sexy as you do right now, he's going to lose his mind." Peeta's eyes twinkled and a smile broke out across his face. "And that's exactly what's going to happen."

I entered first to find Finnick sitting upright on the chair, rope tied around his chest and arms, binding him to the wood. His head was tilted backwards so he stared at the ceiling. "So what's this then?" he asked. "Big bad old Cato has finally come to beat the shit out of the stalker whore, huh?" He raised his head to look me in the eye and quirked an eyebrow.

"Oh, I'm not going to lay a finger on you," I said. "Not at all."

"Now why don't I believe that?"

I shrugged. "Believe what you want but it's the truth. Now, tell me how to get rid of Peeta's intital scars."

Finnick laughed.

"Do you honestly think you're going to simply ask and I'll tell you?" he said. "I don't think so."

"Tell me or things are going to get really uncomfortable for you," I warned. "Tell me how to get rid of them."

"Why should I tell you? You're not going to touch me apparently."

I smirked. "I don't have to."

I don't know whether it was by some unspoken agreement or not but Peeta took this as a cue to enter. He stood beside me and leaned back against the wall with his arms folded. I'd never seen him looking so pissed off before. He'd obviously never had Finnick in such a vulnerable position before.

Of course, Finnick took it in. His eyes immediately assessing the situation, trailing over the blond's body lustfully and unabashedly. His predatory gaze made me angry and I clenched my teeth together in anger. "Oh, so this is your plan? Use my own sexuality against me? Well, I'm sorry, but it's not going to work," Finnick said. "I can hold out pretty well."

"No you can't," Peeta frowned. "You've never been able to hold out."

Finnick smirked and winked. "All because of you baby."

Peeta made a face, as if the simple innuedo made his walls falter and almost crash down again. I couldn't let that happen. My hand sneaked around his waist and pulled him close to me. Smiling, he rested his head on my shoulder and rested a hand on my chest. "Last chance Odair, tell me how to remove the scars."

Finnick shook his head. "Let's see what you've got Hadley."

I found myself smirking, happy that he'd said that. I tipped Peeta's chin up and lowered my face to his slowly, knowing that every second was going to kill Finnick. As soon as my lips touched his, Peeta groaned appreciatively and hugged my body close to his. I smiled and tilted his head up to kiss him deeper.

Peeta stepped around to stand directly in front of me and wrapped his arms around my neck, opening his mouth when I requested entrance. His moans spurred me on and my hands slipped under the white t-shirt, dragging the material up his back as my palms roamed up to his shoulder blades. In all honesty, I almost forgot that Finnick was even there.

I reluctantly pulled away from him, groaning when Peeta buried his face into my neck and sucked the skin where my neck connects to my shoulder. I looked over at Finnick and quirked an eyebrow. "Going to spill yet?" I asked breathlessly. The bronze haired man was staring almost blankly at us, his head tilted to the side as if contemplating something.

"I _don't_ think so," he replied simply.

The basement door opened and something came rolling in. The door shut as quickly as it had opened but the rolling object stopped at my feet. A can of coke. Peeta glanced down at it momentarily before nipping under my jaw surprsingly hard. I yelped and groaned when he pressed a kiss against the area. Bending down-quite dificultly because I didn't want him to stop his minstrations-I picked up the can of coke and straightened back up.

I pressed the can into Peeta's hand.

He pulled back and looked me in the eye nervously. I nodded and kissed his cheek, letting him go and taking a step back. "You can do it," I mouthed at him.

Slowly, Peeta turned around to face Finnick.

"Why?" he asked.

Finnick raised an eyebrow. "Why what?" he asked back.

Peeta gestured around himself. "Why all this? Why did you do this to me? Why?"

"Because I love you," Finnick stated.

I opened my mouth to protest and say that he had _no_ idea what love was but stopped when Peeta held a hand up, an indication to stay quiet.

"No, I mean really. If you loved me, you'd have let me go long ago. Why didn't you?" Peeta pressed. He was throwing the can of coke up and catching it in one hand almost rhymically.

"Why would I let you go baby? You're too damn hot to let go," Finnick smirked. I scowled and Peeta's face mirrored the expression.

"So my looks was worth getting arrested for?" Peeta asked. He took a look back at me and swallowed hard before facing Finnick again. He took a step forward and leaned down until his face was inches away from Finnick's. "Is my body really worth all the trouble?" His voice had dropped an octave and was so breathy I could barely hear him speak.

"Worth every second," Finnick breathed back.

Peeta tsked and stood up. "That's your problem Finnick, everything in your head gets funnelled down to sex in one way or another." My eyes widened in shock when he straddled the pervert's lap and ground down hard on his crotch. Finnick growled, and I noticed his arms straining as he tried to free them. Peeta leaned forward so his mouth was level with the man's ear and whispered, "Tell me how to remove the scars." I shivered at the thought of his breath brushing past my own ear and noticed Finnick doing the same.

"Never," he whispered back.

Peeta clenched his jaw and ground down harder. Finnick groaned and moved forward to kiss him but Peeta was too quick and moved his head back, grinning. "Nah-uh," he teased. "No info, no kisses." He looked down at Odair's crotch and smirked. "No anything really."

I would be lying if I said I wasn't aroused at how Peeta was behaving. He was enjoying messing with Finnick a bit too much but he didn't care and neither did I.

Peeta got off Finnick's lap and backed up a bit, prompting a whine from the bound man that made me smile. "Gosh, is it hot in here or is it just me?" He turned to me and frowned. "Is it? Is it hot here?"

"You know, it kind of is," I said.

Peeta smiled and threw the coke can over to me. "Would you mind terribly helping me cool off?" he asked with an innocent smile.

"My pleasure," I replied with a smirk.

Finnick was beginning to get weary. His erection from Peeta's grinding on top of him was visible through his jeans and looked painful. Like an evil master villian torturer would, I relished in his pain.

I walked up behind Peeta and hooked my arm around his waist, so the cold coke can rested against his side, pulled his back flush against my front. His head lolled back against my shoulder and my lips found his neck immediately. He groaned and reached behind himself, burying his hands into my hair as I attacked the exposed skin of his neck mercilessly. I made sure to look Finnick in the eye the entire time, conveying everything in the look.

_That's right Odair, he's mine. All mine. Never yours. Always mine._

Peeta mewled when my teeth found his earlobe and started nibbling on it, his body moving against mine as he squirmed in pleasure. I groaned when his ass rubbed against my crotch and my hand dragged the coke can across his stomach, across the 'O' below navel. The blond purred and arched his back into the cold tin.

Finnick groaned and the sound makes me laugh.

"Who do you belong to Peeta?" I purred into his ear, stroking his cheek with the cold can, dragging it down his neck.

Peeta fisted my hair and moaned. "You Cato, always you," he panted.

"Tell me properly," I growled, enjoying the sight of Finnick squirming.

"Oh Cato, Christ," Peeta groaned. "I belong to you, Cato. I ain't no Golden Boy for anyone but you. Initials or not I'm always yours-"

Something suddenly slammed into us both, sending us both flying to the floor. "Fuck!" I yelled as I whacked into the floor and rolled into the wall, hitting my head against the skirting board. My vision skidded out of focus and I clutched the back of my head in pain. I clawed at the floor and pulled myself up.

"Think you could torture me, huh?" I heard Finnick purr. "Well, baby, it's a good thing I know how to pull open knots, isn't it?"

I whirled around and growled in anger as I saw Finnick pinning Peeta to the floor by sitting on his waist, his nose inches from the struggling blond's. Peeta's feet pushed against the floor as he tried to unseat the man ontop of him by bucking his hips up.

"How nice of you to remember my all time favourite fetish, babe," Finnick said. Peeta thrashed his head from side to side as Finnick rolled the coke can around his neck with a smirk on his face.

"Get off him you sick fucker!" I yelled, shoulder barging him off of Peeta. I pinned him to the floor by his shoulders and spat in his face. "Enough fucking around! Tell me how to get rid of the fucking scars! And while you're at it, tell me the so called 'secret' Cornelia knows that's gotten the Mafia so worked up!"

"Go to hell!" Finnick shouted. My fist connected with his jaw and his head snapped to the side. He spat out blood and growled. He head butted me and I fell backwards, landing on my ass. My vision jumped again and everything went blurry.

"Fuck Odair!" I yelled, my hand flying to palm my forehead.

I heard Peeta scream and sat up quickly, my head whirling from what I hoped wasn't a concussion. The lock on the basement door clicked shut and I was relieved that Clove was close by and had the sense to lock the door. I gripped the floor for support as it spun in circles and clamboured to my knees to try and stop it.

A smack rang out around the room and Peeta yelped in pain. The sound alone made me stagger to my feet and run straight in the direction in which I hoped Finnick was in. I rammed into someone and knocked them to the floor again. We rolled around on the floor, my fists hitting and smacking whatever they could find.

Finnick grunted and managed to restrain me against the floor. I struggled underneath him and yelled in frustration as he pinned my arms against the floor. "Tell us how to remove the scars!" I shouted at him.

"Now Cato, I don't think you're in the position to demand anything," Finnick said with a smug grin. I growled at him and spat in his face again.

"Just do it you whore!" I snapped at him.

Finnick rolled his eyes and grinned. "Yeah, no thanks," he said.

"Do it!" I screamed.

"Oh Finnick," A deep voice said in a sing-song voice. Both of our heads snapped to the source of the voice and my jaw dropped at the sight before us. Peeta's back was pressed against the wall, his ankles crossed and his thumbs hooked in the belt loops of the shorts so that they pulled down slightly more than before. His face and neck were dripping from the beads of condesation that had clung to the coke can. "Come here," he purred, unhooking one hand and curling his finger in a come-hether motion.

I wondered what he was up to but Finnick seemed to be hypnotized by the sight. He punched me in the face-enough to make my nose bleed and throw me off-before climbing off me and walking in the blond's direction. When I sat up, more blood gushed out of my nose and I cursed, cupping my hand over it and willing the bloodflow to stop so I could help Peeta before something bad happened.

"Finally given up?" Finnick asked. I looked up from the carnage of my face to see the pervert looming uncomfortably close to Peeta, who was biting his lip and nodding.

"Oh yes Finnick," he purred, leaning into him. "I've been a bad, bad boy, what are you gonna do about it?"

"Oh, wait and see," Finnick replied. He grabbed Peeta's ass and used the leverage to pull him up to his eye level. Peeta giggled like a school girl on crack and ran his hands up Finnick's arms.

"Show me," he whispered seductively into his ear. Finnick growled and backed him into wall, roughly pressing his lips against Peeta's. I struggled to my feet and went to move toward them but stopped when I caught Peeta's eye. He was giving me a warning look. A look to tell me not to move. I frowned at him but he just flicked his gaze back to Finnick and grasped both sides of the man's head.

And, soon as he moved to kiss his neck, smashed it against the wall.

My eyes widened as Finnick reered back and Peeta slid down the wall again. He grabbed the pervert and kneed him in the stomach. He grabbed the man's shirt as he crumpled in pain and dragged him up to face him. "How do you remove the scars," he growled.

Finnick smirked. "Have I mentioned how sexy you are when you're angry?"

Peeta turned his nose up in disgust and threw him onto the floor. When he tried to get up, Peeta planted his foot onto his back and pinned him to the floor. "Would you like me to repeat the question or are you going to answer properly?"

"I don't know, depends on how much more angry you're going to get. With every passing second, you get more and more hot," Finnick replied into the floor. Peeta clenched his jaw and kicked him in the stomach.

"I'm not fucking around Odair," he snapped as Finnick groaned in pain. "You've lost, face it. Stop being a perverted bitch and tell me how to fix these goddamn scars!"

As an onlooker, I couldn't help but agree with Finnick. Peeta was fucking hot whne he was angry. His jaw clenched in rage and his eyes full of fire, beads of sweat dripping down the sides of his face and glistening off his skin . . . he was a fucking sex demon.

Finnick rolled his eyes. "Just make an appointment at Brian's clinic. I thought that much would be obvious. That is, if Brian lets you in."

"Oh, he will," I said. "We'll make sure of it."

"And Cornelia's secret?" Peeta demanded.

"Her secret?" Finnick scoffed. "Her secret is that she knows what happened on your first date with Katniss."

Peeta's resolve faltered. "What?"

"I said, she knows what happened. She knows what Johanna and Delly did to you," Finnick said.

"Which was?" I asked, moving to stand beside Peeta.

"Well, apparently Delly's sexual frustration was getting too much for the Mafia and the only person she wanted to touch was you," Finnick said. "But she couldn't do that without blowing her cover. So, instead, Johanna drugged Katniss and yourself and let Delly feel you up in the alley. Then she blamed Katniss and got her arrested."

Peeta's shoulders slumped. "So basically they drugged us, got Katniss arrested and ruined our first date just so Delly could molest me?"

Finnick shrugged into the floor. "Basically, yeah."

"Why would the Mafia care about Cornelia blurting about that?" I asked.

"Because, at the time, they needed Delly for her survelliance skills and Johanna for her leadership skills," Finnick explained. "And if Cornelia blurted, Johanna and Delly would have been arrested for drugging and molesting someone."

I wrapped an arm around Peeta's shoulders and held him close to me. "It's okay baby," I murmered into his hair as he trembled, unable to digest what he'd just been told. "It's all over now." He nodded glumly and I kissed the top of his head.

Finnick shook his head and chuckled. I scowled at him.

"Peeta, go outside with Clove, I'd like some time alone with our captive."

_**A/N: If I'm honest, I almost completely forgot about the Katniss and Peeta first date mystery! Ooops ^_^**_

_**Preview:**_

_**"I don't think you finally understand what I've done to him in the past," Finnick said, his eye already swelling from where I hit him. "I've done things to him you wouldn't even dream of."**_

_**"If you're trying to stop me from hitting you again, it's not working," I growled. Finnick laughed and shook his head.**_

_**"I don't care, hit me if you want," he said. "But I'm going to tell you. Every whip, every spank, every moan, every plead for mercy, by the time you get out of here, you're going to know everything."**_

_**Please R&R! :D**_

_**(Like the new story cover? I made it myself! ^_^)**_


	19. It's Over

_**A/N: Heh heh guys, guess who screwed up? I did! Did anyone notice how Peeta could miraculously walk in the previous chapter? Heh, I didn't until I'd posted it up. Peeta was magically able to walk on the prostetic all of a sudden. Uh, whoops. Big sorrys all round, yeah? I guess from now on he can walk on the fake leg, yay!**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**_

Chapter Nineteen: It's over

_**Cato: The basement: Same time:**_

"Why did you hurt him so much?" I demanded as soon as Peeta left the basement. Finnick sat up and frowned at the question. "Why did you put him through all that?" The man shrugged.

"I don't have reasons," he said. "I never thought I'd have to explain myself. I thought he was going to me mine forever."

I scoffed. "You really thought Peeta was going to stay a prostitute his entire life? And yet you were one of his biggest payers. In being that, you were basically pushing him out the door, you know that, right?" Finnick staggered to his feet and leaned against the wall by the door.

"Believe me, when he was with me, he wasn't getting anywhere near the door," he said. My first collided with his face and his head jerked backwards, hitting off the wall and bouncing back. He grunted and shook it off. "Jesus Hadley, I thought you wanted to talk? Keep that up and I'm gonna lose conciousness again."

I shook my hand and rolled my eyes. "Oh what a shame that'd be," I said dryly.

Finnick laughed. "Oh, I'm sure it would be," he replied. "I mean, then you wouldn't get to enjoy every second of giving me what for, right?"

"Who said I was going to give you what for?" I countered. Finnick quirked an amused eyebrow.

"Well, aren't you?" he asked.

I shook my head and took a step back. "I wasn't going to. I just want to know goes on in that sick little mind of yours that makes you believe for a second that you love him."

"Haven't we had this conversation before?" Finnick asked.

"Yes," I said. "But we're having it again. Why do you think you love him?"

"I don't think," Finnick frowned. "I know."

"No, I don't think you do," I said.

"Who's thinking now?"

My face melted into a scowl. "Shut up," I snapped.

"I don't think you finally understand what I've done to him in the past," Finnick said, his eye already swelling from where I hit him. "I've done things to him you wouldn't even dream of."

"If you're trying to stop me from hitting you again, it's not working," I growled.

"I don't care, hit me if you want," he said. "But I'm going to tell you. Every whip, every spank, every moan, every plead for mercy, by the time you get out of here, you're going to know everything-"

I'm at his throat before he can finish the sentence. He grinned and choked slightly as my hand tightened around his neck. "I don't want to hear it," I hissed. Finnick chuckled, grabbed my wrist and squeezed. A shot of pain went up my arm and my grip on him went slack. He then twisted my arm up my back and pushed me over so I was bent over before him. "Fuck Odair!" I yelled at him. "Give it up you've los-ah!" He pushed my arm further up so my fingertips brushed the hair at the nape of my neck.

"Ever heard of straps Hadley? Best invention ever. They buckle around bedposts and are used to restrain limbs against the bed so that they're spread eagle against the mattress. Either facing forward or facing back. I perfer it when his back is facing me, cuz' then I get a wonderful view of his beautiful bubble butt," Finnick said.

"You're disgusting," I snapped. I thrashed against his hold on me but he kicked behind my knee, and I crumpled to the floor. "Let me fucking go!"

"This one time I trailed whipped cream up his spine as he was bound there on the bed and licked it all off. It made him moan _so_ loud." I could hear the smirk in his voice and scoffed in digust. "Or would you rather hear about the time he went to shower after having sex with me and I handcuffed him to the shower railing so that he wouldn't leave me. Sucked him off twice and fucked him while he was locked up there."

I growled and jerked off to the side, tucking and rolling around. My arm cracked further up my back but I gritted my teeth and wrapped my legs around Finnick's to bring him down with me. I flipped him around and sat down on his waist with all my weight. I rammed his head against the floor and pressed the side of my hand against his throat.

"Shut the fuck up," I growled at him.

"Oh! How about that time when I stripped him down, put him over my knee and spanked him with my paddle?" Finnick said, his voice rough and croaky from my hand pressing into his adam's apple. I pulled his hair hard and rammed his head against the floor.

"Shut the fuck up!" I yelled.

"Or whipped his back until he was nearly half dead." Finnick continued no matter what I did to him. Gagged his mouth open with a ball gag and fucked him to make him scream until his throat ached. Took him doggy style on the bed, biting his neck until he bled. Beat him in bed because his cries of pain aroused him more. The list was endless.

"You're a sadistic bastard Odair," I snapped when I could take no more.

"If you're just realizing that then something's seriously wrong," Finnick said. My eyes narrowed into a glare but the man just smiled brightly at me. His eye was now closing over and was darkening into a dark purple.

"How can you still be possibly smiling?" I asked in exasperation.

"Believe me Hadley, I've taken worse beatings," he replied. "I've gotten into a lot of trouble in the past and a lot of them had bigger fists than you."

The thought of Finnick getting into trouble wasn't hard to think of but the thing that alarmed me was how proud he was to admit it. I dreaded the idea of what _sort_ of trouble this man had gotten himself into in the past. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

"Cato!" Clove yelled. Footsteps thundered overhead and the lock on the door jiggled. My collegue burst in, her face panicked. "Something's wrong!"

"What is it?" I asked.

"I don't know! It's Peeta. I think it's something to do with the baby. I think he's dying!" Clove exclaimed. My head snapped back to Finnick, my hands grabbing his shirt and pulling his face to mine.

"What have you done?!" I yelled at him.

"I don't know!" Finnick snapped. If even he didn't know what was going on, then how bad was Peeta's problem? I let go of him and barged past Clove through the door.

"Where is he?" I shouted behind me.

"Bedroom!" Clove called back.

I bounded up the stairs and pushed into the bedroom. Peeta was lying on his side on the bed, curled up in a fetal position. His face was pale and screwed up in pain. Beads of sweat dripped down his face and his whole body was trembling. "Peeta," I said, crouching beside the bed and brushing his hair of his face. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"The baby," Peeta groaned. "It's-it's hurting me."

I had no idea what to do. I was panicking and did one thing I never thought I'd do.

I called for Finnick.

"Finnick!" My voice was high pitched and expressed the fear I was experiencing. "Finnick! Help!"

It was instant. Finnick was at the door moments after I called him. He was at Peeta's side and examining the situation quickly. He slapped my hands away, which made me mad, but I let him work because when he started murmering stuff into Peeta's ear, he listened carefully and did what he was told. He obviously trusted Finnick's medical knowledge.

"I'm going to turn you on your back, okay? I need you to do what I did when Brian was here. Lie straight, Cato's going to help," Finnick instructed.

"What do I do?" I asked. Peeta groaned and rolled stiffly onto his back like he was told. Finnick took my hand and placed it under the small of hs back, holding him up slightly, and put the other under his chin to keep it straight to stare at the ceiling.

"Cato?" Peeta croaked.

"I'm here, baby, it's okay," I assured. "As much as it kills me to say it, Finnick's going to help."

Peeta nodded before shutting his eyes and moaning. He tried to curl his body in on itself again but Finnick stopped him. "I know it hurts but I need you to stay still, okay?" Finnick said.

"Why? I thought you'd be getting off to this?" Peeta spat back acidly.

Ignoring the comment, Finnick pushed Peeta's shirt up and pressed his ear against his abdamon. He pressed his fingers into his stomach and sides, wincing every time the blond twitched or groaned in pain. "The baby's dying," he mumbled.

"Isn't that a good thing?" I asked. "Then he won't have to have your baby."

"As much of a snide comment that is," Finnick snapped, "we can't let the baby die."

"Oh, I think we can," I said. Peeta's back arched off the bed as another wave of pain hit him and tears were slipping out of the corner of his eyes.

"Cato," Finnick said, his voice low. "If this baby dies, so does Peeta."

"What?!" Clove and I exclaimed at once.

"I'm going to die?!" Peeta gasped.

"Keep his head up," Finnick instructed. I did as he told me and tipped Peeta's chin back up. I could feel how hot he was through his skin and I knew that wasn't a good sign. Finnick noticed this too and pressed his hand against Peeta's forehead. "Shit," he muttered.

"What? What's wrong?" Clove demanded.

"It's further on than I thought," he mumrmered.

"And that means . . . ?" I asked. Finnick took a forlourn look at Peeta and bit his lip. His green eyes were glassy and almost dead.

"Keep talking to him, I'll be back in a minute," he said, pushing past Clove and leaving the room. Clove turned to look out the door after him but neither of us moved. Something in his tone told us that he was must definitely coming back.

"Cato," Peeta whimpered.

"I'm here, it's okay," I soothed, not knowing if I could move my hands or not.

"I'm scared."

"I know but I promise everything's gonna be fine."

Peeta looked at me, his eyes glittering with tears, and nodded. He coughed, and a drop of blood spat out and hit my hand. My heart dropped. "Finnick he's coughing blood!" I screamed out of the door. Clove was paralysed by the foot of the bed, biting her thumb nail nervously.

"Take your hands away!" Finnick yelled back. I immediately grabbed Peeta's hand and clutched it like it would keep him with me.

"Stay with me Peet, be strong, okay? Just grip my hand tight," I whispered. Peeta held onto my hand tightly and kept coughing, droplets of blood spitting out with every cough. "Finnick!" I was desperate now. His grip was slowly weakening.

"I'm coming!" He yelled back. He came running back in with a syringe of green liquid in his hand.

"I love you Cato," Peeta croaked before coughing and spluttering some more.

"I love you too Peeta," I replied, kissing his cheek. Peeta nodded and his eyes fluttered shut. He was slipping away and I couldn't stop it. "Peeta? Peeta! Stay! Hold on! Finnick help him!"

Finnick came round the side of the bed, wiped the hair from Peeta's forehead and pressed a kiss to it. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. Before I even had a chance to react, he pulled back and stuck an empty syringe into the juglar of his neck, draining blood out from it. When he yanked it back out, the artery was still bleeding, gushing out giant trails of blood. He staggered, leaning on the bed for support, and mixed the green liquid in with the blood he'd extracted from his neck.

"Finnick, are you crazy?!" I exclaimed. "That could kill you!"

The blood was now coming out his throat and Finnick gurgled on it before spitting it out and drowsily smoothing his hand over Peeta's stomach and holding the syringe over his abdamon.

When he jabbed the needle into his stomach and pushed the liquid in, Peeta screamed and convulsed like he was having a seizure. "Finnick, what have you done!?" I yelled. The man took one look at the thrashing body on the bed before his eyes rolled behind his head and he collapsed on the floor. "Finnick!" I screamed.

With one last scream of pain, Peeta's body arched off the bed and he shrieked. Then he dropped onto the mattress and went still.

"Peeta?" Clove whispered.

"Peeta?" I whispered. No response. Not even a flicker. "Peeta, come on baby, wake up. Please, don't die, please wake up." I smoothed back his hair and cradled his head to my chest. "Please."

"Cato, I think he's-"

"He's not dead!" I screamed at her. "He can't be dead!" My throat hurt from all the screaming and my cheeks were wet from tears I didn't know had fallen. "_Please._"

Still nothing.

Then a cough.

And another.

And a third.

"Cato?" A scratchy voice croaked.

I looked down and am met by a set of wide blue eyes. "Peeta!" I cried. "I thought I'd lost you!"

"Couldn't get rid of me that easy," the blond whispered, pressing his face into my chest. I held him close and refused to let go. His body still tremble, recovering from the aftermath of what had just happened.

Clove rounded the bed and crouched before Finnick's body. "Guys," she whispered. She looked at us with frightened eyes. "He's dead."

"What?!" Peeta exclaimed. He bolted out of my arms, immediately taking a light head and falling backwards. I caught him and sat him up slowly.

"What do you mean he's dead?" I asked.

"Exactly that," Clove said. "Look." She pointed at the ever growing pool of blood around Finnick's neck. "He stabbed his juglar. He's dead."

"He killed himself?" I asked in disbelief.

Clove nodded. "To save Peeta."

Peeta covered his mouth with hands and rested his elbows on his knees. Is he crying? "It's my fault," he whispered.

"What? No, it's not," I said, wrapping my arm around his back and pulling him into me. "It was never your fault. It was his fault that he made you pregnant, it was his fault you nearly died and it's his fault he died in the end." I wasn't sure if I was supposed to feel remorseful or not but the feeling wasn't coming so I didn't dwell on it.

Clove sat down on the floor and hugged her knees. "You know what this means right?" she asked.

"What?" I asked back.

She smiled softly and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "It means it's over. We're done. He's free."

"You hear that Peeta?" I smiled and kissed the top of his head. "You're free."

"Free?" Peeta said the word as if it was an alien string of letters.

"Yes," I confirmed. "Free."

_**A/N: Did any of you guys see that coming? If you did, congrats! If you didn't, were you shocked? I'm sure some of you will be happy enough, I mean, Finnick's dead. Whoopiee, yeah?**_

_**Preview:**_

_**When he first began to get big, he cried. It made the whole thing so real. He was carrying a baby. We'd woken up one morning, he got out of bed and there it was. The tiniest hint of a baby bump. A slight curve over his stomach, like an area of puppy fat.**_

_**"I can't do this," he whimpered. I hugged him from behind and kissed his cheek.**_

_**"Yes you can," I said. "And I'm here for you."**_

_**Please R&R! :D**_


	20. Leaving four with some peanut butter

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**_

Chapter Twenty: Leaving 4 with some Peanut Butter

_**Peeta: Brian's clinic: The next day:**_

"I'm willing to help," Brian said. His eyes were hard, rimmed with red from the news of Finnick's death. I couldn't really believe it myself. Finnick, the man who'd spent half his life beating me, and torturing me, sacrificed his life to save my life. My mind was still trying to comprehend it.

Cato and I had come here when Brian's body disappeared from the backyard Clove had dumped him in. It was the first place we thought to look and was exactly where he was. We hadn't come to ask him to help us with the baby but Cato ended up asking-well, more like demanding, that he helped us with the situation.

"Just know it's for Finnick. If you die because of that baby then his sacrifice would have been for nothing," Brian continues hollowly. "And I'm not having him die for nothing."

"Then what do we do?" I asked.

Brian pulled a small card out of his pocket and handed it to me. "When you feel the baby coming, call this number. There's always one of my doctors on call between the Districts so I'll make sure one of them is there to aid with the birth. It's not like with a woman, you won't need check ups or anything, but I assure you that it makes a woman giving birth seem painless."

I stared at the Clinic card and nodded. "Okay," I said.

"How will he know when the baby's coming?" Cato asked.

"Believe me," Brian said. "You'll know when it's coming."

His tone of voice wasn't reassuring and I slipped the appointment card into my jeans pocket. Out of sight, out of mind. I hope . . .

"Is there anything else you wanted?" Brian asked. I wasn't sure how to ask him it, how to request such a thing off him as the look in his eyes made it obvious that he blamed me for Finnick's death. Like I chose for the baby to nearly die, like I asked Finnick to use his own blood for the cure serum, like I wanted him to kill myself to keep me alive.

"We want you to get rid of the scars," Cato said for me. I was relieved because I didn't want to risk finding out if the man did blame me after all.

Brian's face curled up into a cruel smile. "You do realize that since he's dead, those scars are null and void, right?" he asked.

"I don't care," Cato said. "I want them off him."

Shaking his head, the scientist stood up and started throwing things together. It seemed like he was just mixing random ingredients into a test tube but I knew better. It was exactly the same way he did all those years ago. The exact time he'd shake it, stir it, add the powder that made it cloud over into a green colour. It was all down to percision.

He still didn't wear goggles.

"Give this to him when you get home. It's illegal to remove ownership scars in 4, the claimed is supposed to grieve once their owner dies, so you'll have to wait until the month is over and the District is once again open," Brian explained. "Oh, and you need to wait until the baby's born. The chemicals could be dangerous to the fetus."

"Thank you," I said before I could stop myself. Cato and I stood up, and I held the test tube in my hands like it was my lifeline. "For everything. And . . . I'm sorry about Finnick."

Brian narrowed his eyes into a bone chilling glare. "Save it," he simply said. "Now get out of here before I change my mind."

We didn't need to be told twice.

~xXx~

In the end, I asked Cato if we could attend the funeral. I don't know what possessed me to what to go but there was a knawing feeling in my stomach-that wasn't the baby-that kept nagging at me until I decided I'd have to go. It wasn't some cold decision that I'd come to because I couldn't wait to see the man who'd spent half his life torturing me's body burnt to a crisp, no, I just . . . had to see him off.

No one was there. Not even Brian. I was shocked. When I looked back on it, Finnick had never mentioned family or friends or anyone close to him . . . apart from me. I didn't realize I was all he had. And even I hadn't wanted him. How must that have felt? To have had no one your entire life and when you finally think you've got someone, half the time they're dying to get out of your hair.

That's why he made me pregnant, I realized. It begin a family of his own. To have people who loved him and cared for him unconditionally. So that he'd have people to come on his funeral day to grieve and celebrate his life. He wanted all that with me and more.

I was suddenly feeling guilty.

Cato and Clove came with me. I'm not sure why. Maybe for moral support or something. Or maybe their reason was a cold goodbye like mine. Because in the end, he'd died in a honourful way, as much as I hate to admit it. He saved my life and died in doing so. Did he really love me that much?

He must have.

I was asked by the priest if I wanted to say any words but I shook my head. What could I possibly say? That he kinapped me, kept me captive half of my life and took pleasure in hurting me but it's all alright because he saved my life? Because I couldn't do it. It would a lie in saying that I forgave him for everything he'd done to me just because he stopped the baby he'd implanted in me from killing me. Of course, I'd always thank him for that but I couldn't pardon all the other terrible things he'd done to me in the past because of it. I'd always be haunted by that.

My eyes were locked on the metal door the whole time the body was in there. I imagined the flames flickering and consuming him until there was nothing left but a pile of ash. A pile of ash I'd decided I was going to be responisble for.

And I knew exactly where to throw it.

~xXx~

"The ocean?" Clove asked uncertainly. The three of us stood on the District 4 pier the next week after having finally recieved Finnick's urn of ashes. Cato's arm was wrapped around my shoulders as I clutched the black jar desperately. This was important to me. It felt like in doing this I was setting free my troubles and opening myself up to a new life, a new life with Cato.

"The ocean," I answered. "He loved the ocean. He tried to teach me how to swim in the public pool in 3 but it . . . never . . . worked . . ."

"Well, I guess it's as good a place as any," Clove said quietly.

"You okay to do this?" Cato asked.

I nodded, my hands trembling as I unscrewed the urn lid. Taking a deep breath and exhaling back out again, I stepped forward to the edge of the pier and threw the contents out into the water. The ashes dispearsed and hung in the air for a long moment. As the sun peeked out from a grey cloud, it caught in the ash and I could have sworn there was a sparkle of emerald green before a wind blew it away into the water.

"You okay?" asked Cato, appearing behind me.

"Yeah," I said, my voice small. The tightness that had always been in my chest ever since Finnick had returned gave one last killer squeeze before releashing.

Cato's arm wrapped around my waist and held me close. It was as if he could sense the tears coming on. It was just so surreal. It felt strange. I wanted to accept that there was no longer anything to worry about it but I couldn't do it. There had always been something to worry about. And the fact that there wasn't anymore . . . well it terrified me.

Then again, there was still the baby.

"Who are you?" Clove asked. We turned around to find her staring at someone standing at the end of the pier watching us.

"Portia Wellard," the person said, "Finnick Odair's lawyer. Is Peeta Mellark here?"

Cato's arm tightened around me and I tensed up. "Maybe," Clove said. "What do you want?"

"It's concerning Mr. Odair's will," Portia said. "Can we talk somewhere more private?"

~xXx~

"He left me what?!"

Portia smiled and showed me the papers. "He left you everything."

She had taken us to her offices by the bay and told me that Finnick had written me into his will. As sole owner to everything he ever owned. His scientific legacy, his money, everything. It now all belonged to me. How could that possibly be right?

"As in . . . everything?" I asked.

Portia nodded. "Everything," she said.

"As in money and everything?"

"As in money and everything," Portia confirmed.

My curiousity getting the better of me, I asked, "How much are we talking?"

"Well over a million pounds."

"Holy shit," Clove muttered, running a hand through her hair. Cato held my hand and I covered my mouth in shock. There had to be a mistake surely . . .

"If you don't believe me, would you like to hear what he wrote exactly?" Portia asked. I nodded numbly and clutched Cato's hand tighter as her eyes scanned the piece of paper. ". . . _And I leave my entire fortune to my Golden Boy, Peeta."_ I swallowed. Yup, that sounded like me. "He writes here that you are orginally from 12. Would you like the money to be put into your bank account there or given to you physically?"

"Uh . . . I . . . don't know . . ."

Portia smiled. "It's okay to feel a bit lost," she said. "If you're planning to return to 12 then it's best to let the money be put into your bank account there. It's also the safest way. As for Mr. Odair's scienctific legacy, the firm are willing to take care of that if it's what you'd perfer."

I nodded. "O-o-okay, I think that'd be best . . ."

Portia nodded and wrote something down. "And the money?"

"Can I talk to Cato about this?" I asked. "I think it's a decision we should make together."

"Of course," Portia smiled. "Miss Jettison and I shall leave you to talk."

"We will?" Clove frowned. "Oh, wait, yes we will."

When they left, I turned to Cato to find him staring at the wall in front of him with a deep frown on his face. "What do we do?" I asked. "I can't take it, it's not my money." Cato nodded his agreement.

"Spending it would be like letting him win. Like you still need him even after he's gone to depend on," he said. "I don't want that for you."

"I don't want it either," I whispered.

Cato looked at me and smiled softly. "I know," he said. He cupped his hand over my cheek and I leaned into it, closing my eyes and basking in the heat it provided. "There's bound to be something we can do with it though. Donate it to charity or . . . something?"

"What charity though?" I mumbled, pulling him over to rest my forehead to rest against his. My eyes opened as I realized something. "There's one thing we could do."

"What?" Cato asked. I leaned in and whispered my idea into his ear. A smile spread across his face as I proceeded to explain it to him.

"What do you think?" I whispered when I'd finished explaining.

Cato pulled back and framed my face in his hands. "It's such a beautiful idea," he said. "It makes me love you even more." His lips are dangerously close to mine and I smile, inching forward and pressing my lips against his. Cato smiles and sighs, kissing me back. When I pulled back, he tried to follow but I pressed my finger to his lips.

"You think so?" I asked.

"I know so," he replied.

Portia came back in, her eyes pinned the ceiling as Clove chattered about something behind her that was obviously killing the woman. "Have you decided what you'd like done with the money?" she asked, cutting Clove off.

I took one last look at Cato, comforted when he nodded, before turning to Portia and smiling.

"I'd like it given to me physically please."

~xXx~

_**One month later: District 3:**_

Elsa was walking to the apartment, her demeanour visibally shaken. Her bright blonde hair was tied up in a tight ponytail that sat on the top of her head, like she knew he liked it. Her client liked the innocent little girl look. That's why she was wearing a plaid skirt and white blouse. She usually got extra if she came prepared.

Her brother needed surgery, this was the only way.

There was only this time and maybe a couple more appointments . . . depending on how well they judge her performance. She couldn't afford to disappoint.

It was a longer walk than she first thought it'd be. The heels she'd put on were murdering her feet and she began to wobble along the pavement. She sighed and stopped in the street to take them off. It was a hot night so she would catch frost bite in her feet if she walked bare foot. Alma used to tell horror stories about things like that. She wasn't sure why, maybe the woman just wanted to scare them all.

"Excuse me?"

Elsa whirled around with a shirek, whipping out her pepper spray. She didn't need to get attacked in the streets because of her outfit. It was the last thing she needed.

The stranger ducked underneath the spray, saving his eyes from the attack. "Hold your fire!" he exclaimed, holding a denensive hand in ront of him. "I mean you no harm!"

"What do you want then?" Elsa demanded. The man wasn't half bad looking. Blond, blue eyes, stong enough looking. Which also meant strong enough to attack her without anyone knowing.

"Are you Elsa Greyson? Don't you work for Alma Coin?" the stranger asked.

"Sorry," Elsa said. "I'm busy. Already on a job. Make an appointment." She turned to walk away but the man grabbed her arm. She shrieked and slapped his hand away. He held his hands up surrender.

"Please stay," he begged. "I want to help."

"What could _you_ do to help?" Elsa snapped. The man suddenly grabbed her hand and pressed something into it.

"Don't go to your cilent. Take this and stop doing what you're doing," he said. "It's not worth it."

Elsa looked down at her hand and gasped when she say a wad of money. Well over a hundred pounds. Enough to pay for her brother's surgery. "Sir, I can't take this-" She stopped as when she looked up, the man was gone.

Tugging the hem of the plaid skirt down, Elsa turned in the oppisote direction. She found her feet quickening as she hurried down the road to the nearest bus stop. This was it, this was what she needed. Screw Alma, she didn't need her anymore. Screw her cilents, she didn't need to rely on them either.

The stranger had saved her from selling herself again.

~xXx~

_**Alma's Secret Headquarters: A couple days later:**_

I remembered the way like the back of my hand. I remembered coming this way so many times before. The remainder of Finnick's money clutched in my hand, Cato at my side, I knew I could do this.

We'd saved them all. Well, most of them. The ones we could find anyway. Most of them have been around on jobs. Taking the dark alleyways to hide their hurt pride. Cato and I found them and paid them off with the money Finnick left. To get them to stop what they're doing. To end Alma's business.

We figured Alma herself would wonder where all her workers have went. I think most of them fled after I gave them the money. Maybe a few stayed, I'm not sure. But Cato and I decided we might as well go and tell her where most of them are. Even if we're not exactly sure ourselves.

She was at her desk, like she always was. Working away with her papers. She'd gotten older. Her eyes sunken deeper, wrinkles more pronounced, hair greyer. But her presence still sent a chill up my spine as soon as I passed through the threshold. I clutched Cato's arm tighter and he kissed my temple reassuringly.

Alma looked up when we entered and looked slightly taken aback. She slid her glasses down to rest on the tip of her nose and gaped. "Peeta?" she frowned. "Is that you?"

"Yes, Alma, it's me," I said. "Always a pleasure."

"Why, I haven't seen you in years!" she exclaimed. Her eyes drifted to Cato. "Who's your friend?"

"Sorry for not introducing myself, Cato Hadley, Peeta's partner. Can't say it's a pleasure to meet you," Cato said with a smile.

"Alma Coin," Alma replied. "Likewise. What happened to the wife?"

"Divorced," I said.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Alma said. "How can I help you Peeta?"

"We just stopped by to let you know that you might be losing some of your workers," I explained. "They finally found a money source of their own. Don't need you any more."

"Excuse me?"

"He paid them off," Cato said bluntly. "Gave them the money they needed so that they wouldn't have to work for you anymore."

"What?" Alma scoffed. "Were would you, of all people, find that sort of money?"

"Finnick died Alma," I said. "Left me the money in his will. I thought I'd use it for some good."

The news of Finnick's death having no effect on her what-so-ever, Alma scowled in anger. "You had no right to-"

"I'm sorry Miss Coin but that is all we came here for," Cato said, interuppting her. Steering me around, he flashed a smile at Alma. "I do hope we don't cross paths again." Without letting me turn back, he guided me out of the place. I was glad. I didn't want to stay in there any longer than I had to.

Now we could go home.

_**Cato: District 12: A few weeks later: Their house:**_

When he first began to get big, he cried. It made the whole thing so real. He was carrying a baby. We'd woken up one morning, he got out of bed and there it was. The tiniest hint of a baby bump. A slight curve over his stomach, like an area of puppy fat.

"I can't do this," he whimpered. I hugged him from behind and kissed his cheek.

"Yes you can," I said. "And I'm here for you."

Peeta turned in my arms and buried his face into my chest. "I'm gonna get fat," he murmered. I rubbed soothing circles on his back and shushed him.

"I don't care," I replied. "You could weigh a million pounds and I wouldn't care."

"Really?"

"I promise."

~xXx~

_**Two months later:**_

"Oh my god!" Peeta moaned. He fell backwards onto the sofa and his body went limp. "This is so hard!" His stomach was now _very_ big, like he'd swallowed a planet.

"Aw, come on, I'm sure it's not that bad," I said, standing behind the sofa and stroking his sweaty hair.

"Oh really? Then you can carry the baby!" He replied. "'Cuz I give up! I'm tired, my feet hurt, I'm craving peanut butter twenty four seven, and I'm sweating like a bitch in heat. If this is what it's like for Katniss, if this is what it was like for _women_, then I have a refound respect because I swear to God I'm going to lose it!"

"Sssh," I said, kneeling down behind him and nuzzling his neck. "Another perk of being pregnant is that everyone does everything for you. If you want, you can take a nice, long nap, then when you wake up, I'll give you a foot rub, make you a peanut butter sandwich and draw you a bath, how does that sound?"

I kissed underneath his ear and he sighed. "Perfect," he mumbled.

"Okay," I said, kissing his temple.

~xXx~

_**Later That Night:**_

There was a noise downstairs. It was dark and Peeta wasn't beside me in bed. Immediately worried, I grabbed a golf club that was propped up against the wall and walked down the stairs to find the source of the nosie. It was coming from the kitchen.

The kitchen.

My god.

"Peeta," I sighed, entering the room and flicking the light switch on.

The blond sat at the kitchen table, eating straight out of the peanut butter jar. He barely spared me a glance as he ate. "Hey Cato," he said through a full mouth. "Sorry if I woke you." I watched, slightly bewlidered, as he took another giant spoonful of the butter out of the jar and licked it all off.

"Hey," I frowned. "How . . . are you eating that?"

"I don't know," Peeta replied. "The craving just got really bad and I couldn't wait until morning." He took another spoonful of peanut butter and his eyes rolled behind his head as he groanted in appreciation of statisfying the craving.

"You're really sitting here in the dark eating peanut butter?" I asked in disbelief.

"Mmm-hmm."

I watched in avid curiousity as he licked the remaining butter off the spoon.

How was I getting turned on by this?

"It's weird because I've never liked this before, not even on toast," Peeta said. "And yet it's the only thing the baby's been able to let me stomach and it suddenly tastes _so_ good."

I sit down across from him and scoop some out with my index finger. "How good?" I asked.

"Cato, you've no idea," Peeta said. I held my finger to his mouth and he immediately took it into his mouth to suck the peanut butter off it. I didn't know if he noticed how erotic it was having him sucking it off but he just sat back again and dove into the rest of the jar. "We're running out," he murmered, scraping the bottom.

"You ate the whole jar?"

Peeta blinked innocently, slowly pulling the spoon out of his mouth. "No," he mumbled. "Half of it was already gone . . ."

I rolled my eyes and took the jar from him before he ate it all. Examining the bottom, I noticed there was only a little bit left. "This," I told him, "is for breakfast tomorrow." He immediately moaned in protest.

"But I'm still hungry!" he protested. He folded his arms and rested them on the bump, huffing with me. He waited for a moment before he thought I wasn't paying attention and made a grab for the jar. I held it out of his reach and laughed when he whined.

"Come on Cato!" he pouted. "Just a little bit more! Please gimmie!"

"No Peeta, you've had enough," I said, unable to hold back a snigger.

"Gimmie!" Peeta whined, clambouring into my lap and trying to grab the jar. It was quite hard with the baby bump seperating us but he made a good go of it.

"Okay, okay, stop," I said, holding a hand up. He did, a puppy pout of his face and I smiled. "Here, give me the spoon." Sighing, Peeta handed me the spoon and I scooped a bit out and held it to his mouth. "Go on, have some." He made a reach for the spoon and I lightly slapped his hand away. "No, eat."

"Oh what, so I'm a baby now?" Peeta huffed.

"Well, you are acting like one," I replied.

"Hey! Not fair!"

"Do you want the butter or not?" I sighed. Peeta's eyes flicked down to the spoon and sighed in defeat, taking it into his mouth and sucking it off. Forgetting his anger with me and focusing on the peanut butter, he sighed and didn't let the utensil out of his mouth until he was sure it was all off.

"I'm having a shower, I'm stinking again," he decided, climbing off me and waddling off to the bathroom.

I watched some t.v downstairs, listening to the water running through the pipes for a while, until deciding to head back up to bed. The water had stopped running for about ten minutes and I wondered whether Peeta was finished in the bathroom or not.

As I approached the bathroom, I realized, he definitely was.

The moans started off quiet, making wonder if I was hearing things, but as I got closer and closer I knew for sure that there was something going on in our bedroom. Peeking in through the door, I had to did a double take, unable to believe what I was seeing.

Never, in my entire time with Peeta, had I ever seen him masturbate. I know it's strange but it just never happened. I had begun to think that he was some alien who was able to control his urges better than the rest of us. I'd never thought to ask either. Why would I? How would you even put it? 'Hey Peet, I know we have regular sex and all but why don't you masturbate?' I doubt that'd go down too well.

And yet here he was, masturbating. A white towel-very likely from his shower-was spread out on the bed underneath him while he lay there stroking himself. His eyes were squeezed shut and his moans and whimpers were hot and frequent.

You see, we'd both made an agreement not to have sex until the baby was out of him. It didn't seem right doing it knowing that it was there. I knew I was having trouble with it, especially when I'd find him in the kitchen in the dead at night sucking peanut butter off a spoon but I'd deal with it on my own.

I didn't want to disturb him because, in fact, it was really hot to watch him stroke himself like that. I knew it was probably perverted or something not to give him privacy but I just . . . couldn't. I was almost hypnotized as he moaned and arched his back off the bed. It was almost like I was in a dreamlike state as I slipped into the room and placed my hand over his.

Peeta gasped, his eyes flying open. He scanned the darkness and relaxed when he saw me there. "Cato," he whispered. "I just . . . I couldn't . . ."

"Sssh," I said, wiping the hair off his face and smiling. "It's okay." I pumped him once and watched as he shut his eyes again and groaned. His hands clutched the bed sheets and he moaned as I ran my hand up and down his shaft.

"Cato . . . ngh . . . ah . . . I'm close," he gasped.

"Cum for me Peeta bread, cum," I cooed.

Peeta moaned one last time and came into my hand. His tensed body relaxed and he looked up at me lazily, "Thank you," he whispered.

"My pleasure," I smiled. "What made you start doing this?"

"Cato, you made me lick peanut butter off a spoon. As a pregnant man, you have no idea how hot that was for me," he said. He heaved himself off the bed and lightly pushed me back from the bed.

My eyes widened as he sank to the floor and knelt down at my feet. "And now I'm gonna return the favour."

"You don't have to-"

"Sssh," he replied, his hands fumbling with the tie of my pyjama pants. He pulled the garment down with my underwear and engulfed my member into his mouth. My eyes rolled behind my head and found my hands slipping into his hair and holding his head close to me as he sucked.

"Oh fuck Peeta," I groaned. His mouth was so hot and tight I couldn't hold on too long. Peeta hummed and the vibrations it sent up my being made me harder and closer to my finish. His head bobbed up and down on my length as he sensed me getting closer and he sucked harder, his cheeks sucking inwards with the effort. "Peeta, pull out I'm gonna cum."

I tried to pull him off but he slapped my hands away, deep-throating me. Unable to hold on any longer, I came into his mouth with a loud moan. I looked at him in awe as he swallowed the load without even choking. "You're amazing," I gasped. Peeta smiled in response and pulled my pants back up, tightening the tie.

"You are too," he said.

He smiled up at me and groaned in pain. "What? What's wrong?" I asked.

"I can't get up," Peeta said. "And my knees are cramping."

"Oh God, I'm sorry," I said, grabbing his elbows and easing him up. I helped him onto the bed and rubbed his stomach comfortingly. "How is it? The baby I mean?"

"Heavy," Peeta muttered.

I chuckled and kissed his temple. "I know but it'll be better once it's out," I said.

Peeta smiled and looked at my hand. "Hey Cato, my semen is still on your hand," he said shyly. I looked at it too and quirked an eyebrow.

"Here, you take care of it yourself," I said, holding my hand up to his mouth. "I'm sure it tastes better than any peanut butter."

"I think I'll be the judge of that," he replied, sucking his own essence off my hand like he did with the peanut butter. "Mmm," he said, licking his lips. "Nope, I'd rather have the peanut butter."

I laughed and wrapped my arms around him. "I thought you would."

_**10 Days after Due Date:**_

"I'm losing it Cato!" Peeta yelled, grabbing my shirt and shaking me. "This is killing me!"

"Wow, wow, baby, it's okay, it's going to happen, alright," I said, prying his hands off my shirt and keeping him off me. "The baby's going to come soon."

"It's been ten days Cato, _ten days!_" Peeta cried. "This thing feels like it's gonna burst me open! I can't handle it anymore! I just can't!" His shirts were stretched out across the baby bump and the bump itself looked so heavy I winced every time he walked.

"Peeta! Calm!" I said. "It's okay!"

"No it's not! I'm gonna lose my mind!" Peeta yelled. "I'm dying here!"

"Okay, I have a plan," I said. "It works, like, 90% of the time."

Peeta was glaring, his whole demeanour fuming and frustrated. His grip on my shirt loosened and he sighed. "What?" he said. "It'd better work or I swear to God-" I didn't let him finish the sentence and smashed my lips against his. Working quickly, desperate to shut him and his moaning up, I pushed him back against the wall and wedged my knee between his.

"What are you doing?" Peeta groaned.

"Sex works," I muttered into his neck, kissing up his jaw. "I don't know how but it does, okay?"

Peeta gasped as I bit the sensitive skin under his ear and groaned in pain. "Cato, it's happened!" he yelped. "My w-w-water b-broke."

"What?!" I exclaimed, stepping back. "That was fast!"

"I know but"-Peeta winced and bent over-"it's happened. I can feel it."

Oh my lord the baby's coming. The baby's coming.

It's coming.

Well, shit.

_**A/N: I know I kind of skimmed over the pregnancy but whatever. Next chapter's the birth and a couple of other things ;)**_

_**Preview:**_

_**"Uh, Katniss," I said nervously into the phone. "I need you at the hospital."**_

_**"What?! Why?!" Katniss exclaimed.**_

_**"It's about Peeta . . . I'll explain when you get here."**_

_**I know it's short but the chapter itself is a work in progress.**_

_**Please R&R! :D**_


	21. Labour

_**A/N: I don't own the Hunger Games :-)**_

Chapter Twenty One: Labour

_**Peeta: Same time: Their house**_

One time, when I was ten years old, I was playing baseball and someone miscalculated their swing and nailed me in the stomach with the bat. Pain had exploded up my torso and I'd ended up in A&E with two broken ribs. I was black and blue and couldn't move from my bed for weeks without suffering blistering hurt inside.

It was nothing compared to going into labour.

Cato had me pinned against the wall, pressing his knee against my crotch and kissing me fiercely when it happened. Pressure had built up in my nether regions but I'd orginally thought it was just arousal but then he bit down on the sensitive skin beneath my ear and I felt something explode and I thought I'd wet myself. Pain had branched up my stomach and squeezed my heart.

"C-cato it's happened!" I yelped. "My water's broke!"

"What?!" he exclaimed, stepping back. "That was fast!"

"I know but-" I winced and bent over-"it's coming."

Labour is hard to explain. Pressure once again built up inside me, as if the baby was pushing against my stomach, trying to get out since it had no . . . woman parts . . . . to escape out of. Cato's face was like a deer caught in headlights. He backed up a couple of steps before snapping to his senses and looking around himself.

"Where's that card Brian gave us?!" he exclaimed in a panic.

I slid down the wall, clutching my abdamon and breathing heavily. "T-t-top -d-drawer," I panted. Cato was gone like a shot, weaving out of the room. A crash rang out and I winced.

"Fuck!" Cato yelled as the crashing continued.

"Cato?" I called nervously.

"Everything's fine!" he replied. "I've got everything under control!"

"Oh good, that makes me feel _so _much better," I said sarcastically. More pain exploded across me and I felt like I was suckerpunched. "Because I haven't!" I yelled out as the pain only got worser and worser. "Are these fucking contractions or what?!"

"Uh, yeah, he's gone into labour!" Cato said, coming back into the room with the phone held to his ear. "He's in great pain, what is it? Contractions? Okay, okay, right. Alright. We'll be there as soon as possible." He hung up and chucked the phone onto the sofa. He slid to his knees in front of me and waved his hands around, unsure what to do with them.

"What did he say?" I groaned, sucking in a breath and holding it there as if it was going to do me any good.

"Ah, he said once the first contraction subsides, get to the hospital. Ask for Dr. Aurelius," Cato explained. Noticing my distress, he brushed his hands through my hair. "Are you okay, is it bad?"

"Baseball bat and suckerpunched," I replied, grasping at his hands and squeezing them tight. "Ah, ah, ah, oh my god, ow!" Cato pressed his lips to my forehead and shushed me softly.

"I know it hurts, just breathe deep," he whispered. "Come on, it's just the first contraction, we need to stay calm."

"Why's it so long, Katniss' were never this long!" I wailed. When Katniss went into labour her contractions were painful but short. This were painful and long. Really long.

"It must be something to do with the whole male labour thing," Cato replied.

The pressure eased and I exhaled in relief, slumping back against the wall. I was already sweating and my head was aching from tensing too much. My limbs were tensed up and I felt on the verge of bursting into tears. Cato looked freaked out, like the father figure panicking and not knowing what to do. The problem was, I wasn't a woman who had the instincts to know what to do.

When I said that I was the woman of the relationship, this was _not_ what I had meant.

Noticing the tears gathering in my eyes, Cato's face crumpled and he pulled me into him. "Sssh," he soothed, stroking my hair. "It's going to be okay."

"That hurt so fucking much," I murmered. He hooked an arm around my back and legs, staggering to his feet and kissing my forehead. The feeling of being the woman intensified as it dawned on me that he was carrying me bridal style. I groaned in exhaustion and buried my face into Cato's neck.

"It's alright, we're going to the hospital," he murmered.

"I'm so tired and it's not even over yet," I whimpered. "It's not even over."

~xXx~

_**District 12 Hospital:**_

"Uh, Katniss," Cato said nervously into the phone. "I need you at the hospital."

"What?! Why?!" Katniss exclaimed.

"It's about Peeta . . . I'll explain when you get here."

The pressure returned to my stomach, as if a thousand bricks had been dropped ontop of me. I screamed, my hands grabbing hold of the hospital sheets desperately. The viens in my arms bulged out because of how hard I was gripping them and I leaned forward so my chest rested on the stupid baby bump. I knew immediately that Katniss had heard me down the phone as high pitched screeching suddenly emmited from the speakers of the mobile, causing Cato to hold it away from his ear to protect his ear drums.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and wrapped his arm around me to pull me to his body. I pressed my face against his side and screamed into his shirt. "Help me Cato!" I shrieked as the pain got more intense. Cato didn't respond, obviously knowing there was nothing he could do, and simply rubbed circles on my back.

"Just get down here now!" he demanded down the phone, interuppting Katniss' screeching. He hung up and chucked the moblie onto the bed, immediately turning his torso around and engulfing me in his arms. He kissed my head and murmered comforting words into my hair as I rode out the fifth contraction since I'd arrived at the hospital with Cato.

I was leaning over the bed ten minutes later, my hands planted on the bed and my body bent forward when Katniss burst into the room, her face flushed as if she'd ran the whole way to the hospital. The pain was killing me and the contractions were getting more frequent, and I was panting for breath. The worst of it was, I'd been hiding from Katniss for the past nine months, pretending that Cato and I were travelling around Panem together.

I hadn't told her that I was pregnant.

I didn't bother looking at her reaction to my perdicament. I heard Cato say one word, "Finnick," and Katniss immediately took the siutation into her stride. I think she knew this wasn't the time, nor the place, to ask questions.

"We need your help," Cato explained. "I don't know what to do. He's in labour, and you've been in labour before. Dr. Aurelius says that we have to wait at least another five hours before he can perform a caesarian and he can't risk giving him pain killers because we don't know whether it'd be safe for the baby or not."

"What can I do?" Katniss asked.

"How did you deal with labour?" Cato questioned. "What did you do to help relax? He's in deep pain Katniss, and I don't know what to do." The desperation in his voice made me feel on the verge of crying again. It hurt me so much to be the cause of making him so desperate and I choked on a sob of despair. Mistaking the gesture as a sob of pain, Cato's voice rose an octave. "What helped you Katniss, I don't know what to do, please tell me because I have no clue! What relaxed you?"

There's a pause and I wince in pain.

"Peeta relaxed me," Katniss said quietly.

I cried out in frustration. What help was that?! Looking back on it, I did do a lot for Katniss both times she went into labour. Fetching things, holding her hand, reassuring her and getting her ice shards to suck on as a distaction-letting her bite my hand when she was denied any more of them. I didn't know I was relaxing her.

More bricks dropped onto my stomach and I crumpled over in pain, my hands giving out on the bed and forcing me to support my weight on my elbows. I tried to bite back my scream, biting my lip until skin broke. A hand rested on my back and ran up and down in a soothing fashion while two others buried into my hair and massaged my scalp. It actually did feel good and my eyes drooped before the pain shot up me again and I moaned.

"It's going to be alright baby," Cato murmered, kissing the crown of my head softly.

"No, it's not," I groaned.

"Yes, it will," Katniss said softly. "Believe me."

When the pressure lightened again, I sighed and fell forward onto the bed. Cato lifted my legs and swung them around onto the mattress. I lay limply on my side and whimpered patheically, worn out and frustrated with the knowledge that there was still five hours before Dr. Aurelis could do anything.

Cato explained everything to Katniss in a nutshell. My ex-wife showed no fear of expressing her true feelings when it came to the news of Finnick's death. She was one exclaimation of joy away from a happy dance. But it was soon replaced with blinding rage when she discovered that the baby was his and not even Cato's.

I groaned and rolled onto my back to ease the pressure on my stomach. I shut my eyes and threw my head into the pillow. The bed dipped as Katniss sat at the bottom and placed a concerned hand on my knee. The thin hospital gown I was wearing bunched up at my thighs and I wasn't allowed to wear anything underneath. I was shivering but I don't think it was because of the cold because, in fact, I was boiling hot.

"I'm going to go find a bathroom," Katniss decided. She got up and left the room, disappearing down the corridor. Cato, who'd been already gone, slipped in a moment later and I sensed his presence by my bedside. I kept my eyes shut because I was so tired but smiled softly at him to try and ease some of his worry.

He ran his fingertips over my lips and they were surprisngly cold. Desperate to feel something other then sweltering heat, I took them into my mouth and sucked desperately. When the cold wore off, he slipped them out and I felt at a loss. They returned a moment later, running something wet and cold along my forehead. It felt so good I moaned in relief. Every few seconds, he'd top up whatever the source of the cold was, and caressed my face with ice cold fingers.

"That feel good babe?" he murmered. I nodded mutely and sought out his touch when he stopped to top the cold up. Eventually, he just pressed it against my neck. It shocked me and I gasped, immediately nestling my cheek into it.

"What is that?" I muttered.

"A glass of ice shards," Cato responded. "Does it hurt much?"

I grunted and nuzzled against the glass more. "Hmm," I replied. Cato stroked my hair-a seemingly common gesture-and rubbed the glass up and down my face. My eyes fluttered open and I smiled drowisly at him. "I love you Cato," I said drunkly.

"Wow, what's happened?" Cato asked. He examined the glass. "Did someone drug the condensation on this thing?"

I wasn't drunk, I was just trying to make him think I was okay when I was really in severe pain. Another contraction suddenly hit me and I whined, pushing my feet against the bed, my back bowing off the mattress. "Ow," I loudly cried out. Cato pressed the glass against my cheek and the reprieve in heat helped me get through the contraction.

When it passed, he eased me up into a sitting position and patted my head assuringly. The mattress dipped as he sat down behind me and I felt comforted as he rested his hands on my shoulders. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"No," I mumbled. There was a plonk as Cato dumped the glass of ice shards onto the bedside table and a splash as he dipped his hand into it. He pressed his chest against my back and trailed the blunt end of a shard across my cheek. I purred at the feeling and leaned back against him. He traced the seam of my lips with it and used his index finger to pull down my bottom lip and slide it into my mouth. The ice melted and I pressed it to the roof of my mouth greedily.

Then he pulled open the tie on my hospital gown.

"Cato-" I whispered.

"Sssh," Cato shushed, pressing a kiss to the nape of my neck.

"But, what if Katniss comes-"

"Relax," he murmered into my skin.

I knew he wasn't going to try anything drastic-even if the room was private-but I was still slightly nervous over what he was up to. When the tie was completely untangled, the top of the garment slipped down my arms until the sleeves rested around my wrists, exposing my round belly and hard nipples. Cato smiled against my neck and rubbed my shoulders, working out the tensity in them. I found myself smiling-it'd been so long since he'd done this and I'd missed it. Then again, the last time he had done it was in the shower the day Finnick knocked our car off the road. My eyes locked on the metal protestic and my smile faded. I wondered if Katniss had noticed it or not . . .

"You're not relaxing," Cato said, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No, it feels good," I assured him, cracking my neck from side to side. "I just can't get my mind off other things." Climbing over the bed, Cato sat down beside me on the bed. His eyes lowered to my abnormally large stomach and he smiled.

"Just think there's a baby in there right now trying to get out," he said.

"Yeah, trying to make me explode on the way," I replied.

Cato reached out and pressed a hesitant hand on my baby bump. As soon as his skin made contact with mine, the baby socked me with either it's fist or it's foot. I jumped and Cato whipped his hand off me, thinking he'd done something to hurt me. "No, it's okay," I said, grabbing his hand and placing it back where it rested. The baby kicked again but I was ready for it this time and only flinched. "The baby likes you," I said quietly.

Cato chuckled. "Heh, yeah," he smiled.

I thought about having to put the baby up for adoption once it's born and my heart sank. The infant hadn't even been born yet, I hadn't even held it in my arms yet, and I already had a weird compassion for the thing. It was going to make it harder to give it away.

Cato seemed to be thinking about the same thing, staring into the distance and absent-mindedly running his thumb along the skin of my stomach. "I had a thought . . ." He trailed off and paused.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Maybe we don't have to . . . give . . . the baby . . . away," he continued.

"You think so?" I whispered. I thought of having to raise another child, of having to be a daddy again and-even though it'd bother most people . . . I didn't mind much. I want it again, with Cato. We could be daddies together.

"I know so," Cato replied. I smiled hopefully at him and he kissed me softly on the lips.

That's when Katniss returned.

She burst through the door quickly and Cato used the millisecond we had when she did to grab the tie on the hospital gown and tie it back up. "I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. "I got lost! The toilet was on like the 4th floor and I couldn't remember what floor we were on and ended up wandering aimlessly around!"

"It's okay," I shrugged.

"Nothing much happened anyway," Cato said. The ice had melted completely in my mouth and had left a cooling sensation behind which felt soothing.

Katniss rounded the bed and did a sudden double take, noticing the metal leg for the first time. She dropped to her knees and placed her hands around where metal met flesh and I flinched, the skin having chafed slightly in the panic to get here. "What happened?" she whispered.

I swallowed hard. "Car accident."

"When?!" she demanded, looking at me with tearful eyes.

I couldn't answer, thinking of how Finnick had plowed into us with his car just to try and get me back. Thinking of Finnick at all nowadays was enough to get me worked up and a belt wrapped itself around my heart and squeezed painfully at the memories even his name alone dug up. Cato took my hand and answered instead.

"When we were in 4," he explained. "We'd been running from Finnick and he rammed his car into ours, flipping it over onto the roof. I got out with barely a scratch, Clove got some damage to her spinal cord and . . . well . . ." He gestured to my leg.

A tear dripped out of her eye and Katniss sniffed. "I'm glad he's dead," she whispered, pressing her cheek against the metal knee of my prostetic. She lightly caressed the reddened skin around it with her fingertips, as if her touch alone could heal it. But it couldn't. That was the most awful part.

I was then hit by another contraction and I gripped Cato's hand tight. I clenched my jaw and grunted, trying not to show pain, and instead funnelled it into my hold on my partner's hand. "Peeta," Cato said, his voice tinged with pain. "I'm gonna need that hand, you know, so please don't break it or any-OW!" He winced and prised my fingers off his hand before I did some damage to it. "Katniss, hand me the ice shards," he said.

Katniss did as she was told and soon the cold glass was against my face again. I sighed and leaned into it, content to stay like that forever as the pain began to ease.

Cato looked at his watch as I fell backwards on the bed, exhausted. "Only four hours to go!"

_**Cato: Four and a half hours later:**_

Neither Katniss, nor I, were allowed in the surgery room as Dr. Aurelis got the baby out of Peeta's body. We had to wait in the reception area on the bottom floor. According to the surgeon, the only way he could safely remove the child from his body was to operate on his stomach, opening him open and remove the baby that way. It was dangerous, but it was the only way.

Katniss bit her nails in a panic while I paced the waiting room, unable to stay still. Katniss' knee bounced uncontrollably and irritated me to no end but I felt the urge to snap at her and tell her to stop it. I resisted though because I knew she was just as worried as I was.

When Dr. Aurelis called us up, we were both up and running like a shot. I ran up the stairs two steps at a time, unable to wait for the elevator like Katniss. Scrambling down the corridor, I burst into Peeta's room in a panic, convinced something bad had happened.

Instead, I found him lying in bed. His face was slack and peaceful, eyes closed-obviously asleep as he snored lightly-so his eyelashes cast shadows across his cheeks. His pale, porcelin skin was almost radiant in the dull hospital light. His blond hair was sweaty and plastered to his forehead, sticking up at all angles. The hospital covers were tucked up to his chest, keeping him warm.

He never looked more beautiful.

Then, I saw it.

In the incubator beside the bed, a small little baby lay wrapped up in a white blanket. It too was sleeping and I approached quietly, wanting to take a closer look. I pressed my hand against the glass of the incubator and smiled. It looked so fragile and small, almost like it would shatter into a million pieces if I touched it.

"Alex."

I turned around to find Peeta looking at me with tired eyes. His voice was rough from screaming and his eyes were bloodshot but he was smiling. "What did you say?" I asked.

"Alex," Peeta repeated. "I think he's an Alex. Short for Alexander."

I looked another look at the baby boy and smiled. Yes, Alex. It suited him perfectly.

Alex yawned and opened his eyes and my body stiffened. Staring back at me was a set of wide green eyes. Finnick's eyes. I backed up slighly but Peeta grabbed my hand and pressed it to his lips. "It's okay," he murmered. "They're different."

"How?!" I exclaimed.

"Finnick's eyes were emerald. Alex's eyes are sea green. With all the trouble his father has put me through, small details like that count. So the eyes aren't haunting. In fact, they're beautiful."

Taking another look at the baby, I noticed he was right. Finnick's eyes had been darker whereas Alex's were light. And Peeta was right.

The baby was beautiful.

The baby Peeta carried for nine months was beautiful.

Alex was beautiful.

Our baby was beautiful.

I smiled and sat down beside Peeta on the bed, smoothing my hands through his hair and watching Alex as he moved his small limbs inside the incubator. "I'm so proud of you," I finally said, tearing my eyes away from the baby and pressing a kiss to the crown of Peeta's head.

"They're keeping him in for observation," Peeta said. "Dr. Aurelis had hidden the fact that it was a male giving birth to the baby but he wants to keep Alex in just to make sure everything's okay. I'm getting discharged tomorrow morning without him."

"Meaning . . . ?"

"Meaning we've got a couple days to ourselves before we become proper daddies."

I grinned, dirty thoughts clouding my mind. "Better make the most of it then."

_**A/N: You get a cookie if you can guess the connection to the baby's name ;)**_

_**I hope none of you mind Alex taking his eyes off Finnick. I figured that it'd be unrealistic that he'd hog all of Peeta's genes so I gave him green eyes but made them a different shade.**_

_**Question: Does anyone know what the ice shards are really used for? I've seen people give women them when they're in labour but I just assumed they were to suck on or something . . .**_

_**Preview:**_

_**"Still . . . sensitive . . . from . . . carrying . . . baby," I panted heavily, pulling on my bound hands desperately. Cato pinched harder, smirking when I cried out in ecstasy and bowed off the bed.**_

_**"Wow, pregnancy sure has done a number on ya, huh?" he grinned, focusing more attention on the area that he'd normally just skim over, the knowledge that carrying a baby has made them more raw and sensitive. He kissed my cheek and I whimpered in pleasure as he continued to rub. Pulling back, he chuckled. "I have an idea."**_

_**I whined as he got up and left the room momentarily, despaired at the loss of his fingers on me. "What are you doing?" I whinged, tugging harder on my restraints. Damn, he tied hard knots.**_

_**"Cold water," Cato stated.**_

_**My eyes widened when he returned with a cold glass of water with ice bobbing on top. "You ass," I said. My partner grinned and resumed his position of sitting on my hips. **_

_**"And you love it," he replied, pecking my lips and pulling the first cube out of the glass.**_

_**So guys, I thought after all we've been through together, you deserve a chapter of hot, sweaty, straight out SMUT and nothing else. That's why I made sure not to make Alex go home with them immediately cuz' then it'd be weird. And believe me, this next chapter's gonna be gooooodddd and hawwtttt :D**_

_**Please R&R! :D**_


	22. Gay Bar

_A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long guys everything has been so hetic and I've been so focused on 'Chosen' that I forget to finish this off! I'm SO sorry._

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games._

Chapter Twenty Two

_**Cato: The next day: District 12 Gay bar:**_

Alex is coming home in two days so Peeta and I decided to spend one last night out together before we become full time parents. Peeta still had the 'HOT ASS' pants that Clove had given him and I still had the shirt she had made me. Although Peeta had lost his, I found him a cute little belly top that I used to wear to raves as a kid.

"It shows too much flesh," he complained as we sat at the bar. I couldn't deny that. It stopped at the shoulders so his arms were exposed and ended at the bottom of his abs so that I could see his belly button and the beginnings of the small blond hairs that led down to his crotch. The delectable 'V' shape of his narrow hips made Cato lick his lips without really realizing it. The 'O' below his navel was hardly noticeable now due to Brian's treatment but still needed a couple more applications since it had already begun to scar over. He looked so good you could hardly tell he'd recently given birth to a baby. "People are staring at me."

Hmm. I'd noticed that too. But I doubt it's in the way Peeta thinks they're looking at him for though.

"They probably think I'm some whore or something."

"Peeta, there's a guy over there wearing nothing but a miltary jacket and leather underpants. You're probably the last person people are going to think is a whore," I assured him.

"I wish they'd stop looking," Peeta continued to complain. He wrapped his arms over his stomach and folded in on himself. Sighing, I put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"Come on babe, don't be like that. This is our last night out. Enjoy it. They're staring at you because you're sexy and they wish they were with you instead of me being here with you," I said. I leaned in close and whispered huskily, "And if you hadn't noticed, a lot of them aren't even focused on the shirt, they're more focused on the hot ass in the hot ass jeans."

Peeta flushed and played with the umbrella in his drink. "You think so?" he asked sheepishly. Smirking, I placed my hand on his lower back so my fingertips dipped under the waistband of the jeans. Peeta sucked in a breath and released it shakily.

"I know so," I replied, pulling away. "Plus, you're still innocent. I mean, me and you might have had sex on numerous occasions, you may begged to be spanked"- A reference to a particularly hot roleplay game last night- "and such but you still act as pure as snow when it comes to stuff like this. Some people love innocents because they're so cute and get so flushed when anything remotely sexual is brought up outside the bedroom."

"You speak like you know what you're talking about," Peeta replied.

"Consider me an expert," I said. "I may have spent a good portion of my life as a bi-sexual man but I can still tell what a lot of homosexual men are thinking. Especially when they're eyeing up _m_yman."

Peeta snorted. "Oh really now?" he asked.

"Yup, look, I'll show you. You see him? The man in the chaps?" I pointed at a brunette guy that was at the back of the bar dressed in cowboy chaps that left little to the imagination. Currently he was talking to an aburn man-who was actually dressed quite casually for someone who was going out clubbing-but every now and then he'd glance in our direction. "He's been wondering for the past half hour how long it would take to get you out of those jeans and up against a cubicle wall in the bathroom."

Peeta laughed. "I doubt that," he said. "It's obvious that you're here with me."

"And? That means nothing in places like this. As long as you're new on the scene and are hot, anything can happen," I said. "Point out someone else you've caught staring."

Peeta bit his lip as his eyes scanned the area quickly. "Okay then, tell me what he's thinking." He pointed to a man sitting in the smoking section beside a woman. He was attractive enough, lounging lazily against the sofa with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. "Every time I turn my head his way he's either looking at me already or his gaze flicks to me."

"Oh him? He's probably fantazing about that cirgarette being your dick," I said as seriously as I could. Peeta choked on his drink and had to spit it back out into the glass. I started laughing and thumped his back as he coughed. "I'm just kidding. No, he probably wants a quickie in the bathroom as well, probably wondering what your orgasm face looks like. I'm considering taking you in there myself just to show them who you're here with tonight."

"I'm _not_ having a quickie in some disgusting bar toilet," Peeta deadpanned, sticking the umbrella behind his ear like a pencil. "I have standards."

I pulled a face. "_Oooh_, he's got _standards,"_ I said in a posh voice. "Well pardon me for being unable to keep up with those high standards."

"You're pardoned," Peeta said with a smug grin. "Plus, I think I've let you downgrade my standards enough don't you think? Mostly in the past 48 hours. Kitchen table-on top of and under- bathroom wall, bathtub, shower wall-front and back-floor of nearly every room and the garden shed. I mean, _the garden shed._ How in the world did you get me to agree to that again?"

"It wasn't hard," I shrugged. "All I had to do was butter you up a bit with kisses and caresses and you melted . . . like . . . butter . . ." Peeta gave me a look and I smiled brightly. "At least let me go in there with you. Maybe if I ruffled up your hair a bit, you put on a dazzled look and walk slightly funny they'll get the message."

Peeta quirked an eyebrow. "Dazzled look?"

"Well yeah, because I'm amazing," I said. "And I dazzled you in the toilet cubicle with my amazing skills. And just for the record, there's no harm in being adventurous."

"Peeta Mellark does not put out," Peeta said, ending the conversation of hot cubicle sex with a finishing nod of the head. I rolled my eyes and nodded my head towards another staring guy.

"He wants to see if he can talk us into a threesome," I said.

"What?!"

"No joke this time I swear," I assured. "You can just tell. He's checking us both out, nodding approvingly, pursing his lips . . . uh-huh, he wants to fuck us both. How invigorating."

"Cato!" Peeta exclaimed. "Please tell me you are kidding."

"Nah-uh. I'm serious," I replied. "Maybe I might just take him up on the offer if he has the courage to ask . . . "

"Cato!" exclaimed Peeta for the second time. "You're not serious are you?"

I shrugged indifferently. "Maybe I'am," I said. "Last night clubbing before parenthood, maybe I want a little fun. The guy is hot enough and I know he's certainly up for it if he just had to balls to ask." Peeta looked horrified and I found it difficult to bite back on my laughter.

"Oh lord please don't let this be happening," he said. "I do not want to end up squished between two sweaty bodies again!"

"Who said you'd be in the middle?" I asked.

Peeta raised his eyebrows. "Say right now that I wouldn't be in the middle," he said. I opened my mouth to try and have a go at lying but the look on his face just made me snigger and burst out laughing.

"Of course you'd be in the middle," I said. "You couldn't overpower anyone for anything. You're too shy." Peeta glared and folded his arms like a child in a huff, blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes. The guy suddenly stood up and both our heads snapped to him in shock. His sapphire eyes widening, Peeta leapt off his stool and dusted off his clothes.

"I'm going to the men's room," he said. He took a fleeting look at the man before grabbing my shirt, pulling me close and muttering in a dark, low voice, "If you say yes to him I will never let you touch my ass again." The threat seemed valid enough so I nodded my assent and promised that I wouldn't say yes to the fantasy threesome request. No three bodied sex was worth not being able to grab my partner's beautiful rear end whenever I pleased.

The man, as I'd predicted, did come over to me and striked up a conversation. His name was Wade, he was from out of town and had a boyfriend back home. He was here for a wild night before he got married-the whole gay marriage bill being long since passed-and was looking for someone he could have a good time with.

"That's a pretty hot young man you've got with you tonight," said Wade, nodding in the direction of Peeta. He'd came out of the men's room five minutes previous but got sidetracked by a group of people stopping to chat to him. He talked animately to them but still looked slightly uncomfortable and innocent. It made me smile. "He just reeks of innocence."

"I know," I said. "It's his charm."

Wade nodded. "It's a sweet charm," he said. "What I was coming over here for though was to ask if you and him would be interested in a . . ." He raised his eyebrows. Ha! I was right! I was tempted to say yes just to see how Peeta would react but the thought of never touching his butt again suffocated the idea.

"Sorry, no," I said. "He's not into that sort of thing. Me? I'm . . . uh . . . sort of for it depending on my mood, but sadly I can't do anything without his consent."

"Ah, so you're whipped then?" asked Wade.

"What? No! I make most of the decisions in the relationship!" I protested. "If anyone's the whipped one, it's him! I just don't like doing anything that makes him uncomfortable!" Wade looked amused by the outburst but nodded knowingly.

"Of course," he said. He made a tsking noise through his teeth and sighed. "Shame. It would have been nice to have had one threesome before being tied down. And that boy looks like he'd look pretty damn good bouncing between two bodies."

"So he looks like a middle to you too?" I said with amusment.

"Yeah," Wade confirmed. I smirked. "Why?"

"No reason," I replied. When Wade had gone for about ten minutes, Peeta returned from the group looking slightly tramuatized. His face was as white as a sheet and he looked like he'd seen a ghost. "What happened you?" I laughed.

"From the distance from here to the bathroom I got three pieces of paper with people's phone numbers on them, got stopped twice for a 'chat' which consisted mostly of _'I haven't seen you around 'dese parts son,'_" he said, saying the latter part with a southern accent, "or_ 'I know you don't come here often cuz' I know I'd remember you,' _with a blantant stare at my body that made me extremely uncomfortable."

I raised my eyebrows and chuckled. "Anything else?" I asked.

"Yes actually, I got groped five times. Not one, not two, but _five times!_ Whether it was a slap on the ass for good luck or a 'goodbye' squeeze of the crotch, it didn't matter cuz' apparently stuff like that happens all the time here! They did it as causally as a normal person would say good luck or wave goodbye!"

"Someone really squeezed your crotch?" I asked in disbelief.

Peeta frowned. "Is that all you heard out of that?!"

"What? Don't blame me! I just want to know what happened so I can defend your honour or . . . whatever . . . partners do to help their spouses feel . . . honoured?"

Peeta folded his arms indignantly. "Yes Cato, someone grabbed my crotch. We were talking, he'd commented on _how he'd have remembered me _before giving me his number and cupping down-" he shut his eyes and exhaled-"_there_ and squeezing really hard. It actually kind of hurt."

"Who was it?" I asked, peering past him at the many people swarmimg around. "'Cuz if you'd like I could punch them until their light went out."

"No, he already left. He was on his way out," Peeta replied.

"What about the person who 'slapped you for good luck'?" I asked.

"The man in the blue jacket. But please don't start a fight, it doesn't matter," he begged. I shook my head with a smile.

"I'm not going to start a fight baby I promise," I said. I hooked my thumbs into his belt loops and pulled him toward me, softly pressing my lips to his. Forgetting his frustration, Peeta relaxed and moaned, wrapping his arms around me as I tilted his head back and deepened the kiss. Not breaking contact once, I helped him back onto his stool, tugging it closer to me so that he was nearly sitting on my lap. My hands rested on his backside and I pouted into the kiss. "No one should be slapping this ass but me," I moaned.

Peeta pulled back with a smirk. "Well I certainly don't see, 'Property of Cato Hadley', written in sequins." I laughed and pulled him closer.

"Don't give me ideas," I warned.

"Okay then, if you own my ass then I own your abs," Peeta said, pressing his hands against my abdamon and curling his fingers into my shirt. "It seems only fair, right?"

I considered this. "Yeah, okay, that sounds fair. You own my abs," I conceded. Peeta grinned and pulled back. He held a finger up to silence any questions, reaching into his back pocket and producing a black marker. "Had you always had that?"

"Yeah," he replied. He pointed at me and twirled his finger upwards. "Shirt, up, now," he demanded.

"What?" I asked, startled.

"Aw, is Cato shy?" Peeta asked in a patronizing voice. I scowled and shook my head. "Good, then you won't mind this. Fair is fair." He grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it up to my chin. "Now hold this." I took the material into my hand and held it up. Peeta's eyes gleamed like a kid in a candy store.

"Can I ask what you're up to?" I asked.

"No good," he answered. "Now stay still." He bent over and ripped the marker cap off with his teeth before pressing it against my skin and drawing a line out on my abdamon. The ink of the marker was cold and I suppressed a shiver.

"Seriously babe, what are you doing?" I asked.

"It may take a couple of minutes, just stay still," Peeta replied sharply, his eyes squinting in concentration. He smirked. "People aren't staring at me any more." I laughed, trying not to let my body jump as to not disturb his work. I wasn't self concious at all-people can stare all they like-and even winked at a couple of people who passed by. Peeta noticed this, pulled the marker back and thumped me in the side.

I yelped and Peeta glared at me through the clumps of hair that had fallen over his eyes. "Eyes front Mister," he ordered, leaning forward again and resuming his drawing. I watched him with an amused grin, playing with his hair as he worked. I love the look he'd get on his face when he was working: eyebrows etched together, bottom lip being ruthlessly chewed, eyes squinted.

Finally he pulled back and sighed with a flourish. "You finished?" I asked.

"Uh-huh. Take a look," Peeta replied.

I looked down to where he'd been working. Carefully sketched on my abdamon was a rose with a long stem and two leaves. Written in intricate curling handwriting beside it was: _Property of Peeta Mellark_. I chuckled and traced the picture with my fingertips. "Well, would you look at that," I said softly. "That's beautiful."

"Not my best work, there's not much you can do with limited time and a sharpie," Peeta admitted, smoothing his hand over the dried ink drawing. "Still, I think it got the point across pretty well." He looked around himself. "Although I'm sort of regretting it now because they're staring at you as well now and that just won't work for me."

"Oh? Why?" I asked, tying my shirt behind my back to keep the message visible.

Peeta shrugged sheepishly. "Cuz' you're mine and they're staring at you in a sexual way," he mumbled.

"Why, are you saying you're jealous?" I grinned.

"_No,_ it's just . . . "

"You do know what this means right?" I took the Sharpie and twirled it between my fingers. Peeta grabbed his glass and took a nervous gulp.

"What?" he asked.

"Fair is fair, right?" I said, repeating his words from earlier. It took Peeta a moment to figure it out and when he did he scowled and kicked my seat.

"You are _not _pulling my pants down and writing on my ass," he snapped. I laughed and tugged his stool even closer to me. He tried to snatch the Sharpie but I held it out of his reach.

"Not on your ass, no," I said. "Because for people to see it then you'd have to not wear your pants." Jumping off the seat, I held my hand out towards him. Peeta leaned back in his seat and folded his arms, glaring at me. "It's going to happen. Whether you want it to be in a men's room cubicle or bent over the bar right here, right now, is your choice because I'm open to either."

Clenching his jaw, Peeta slipped off the seat-not taking my hand as if to prove a point-and started walking towards the men's room. I followed with a smug grin, giving anyone who watched a _that's right, stare away_ look. In the men's room, the cubicle was spacious enough for both of us to stand inside with a couple of metres between us.

"Turn," I said, twirling my finger around. Rolling his eyes, Peeta turned around. "Hey, don't dish out what you can't take. Fair is fair." I grinned as Peeta groaned.

"I'm already regretting saying that," he said. "You're going to hold that against me for the rest of my life aren't you?"

"Very likely yes," I replied. I took his wrists and pressed his palms against the wall. "Brace yourself please," I said sweetly. "Oh, by the way, be a love and curve your back out for me, please." Peeta turned around with an exasperated look on his face.

"I thought you weren't doing it there," he said.

"I'm not," I said. "Turn back around." With another roll of his eyes, he whirled back around and planted his hands on the wall, curving his back like asked so that his butt stuck out. "See? Was that so hard?" I teased, giving him a friendly pinch.

"Oh just get on with it."

"Hey, you took your damn time doing mine, I'm going to do the same with yours." I inched his pants down his hips a bit and pushed his shirt up so that I could get to work on the small of his back. I wasn't going to bother trying to draw anything complicated because there'd be no point in it because then there would just be a sucky Hadley drawing on his back.

"I swear to God if I end up with a swear word written on me in Sharpie Cato I'm going to kill you," Peeta warned, crossing his arms on the wall and resting his head in them. I laughed and continued to write on his back. "No dirty drawings either!"

"Mmm-hmm, okay," I said. "Anything else?"

"Can't you just write, 'Property of Cato Hadley,'? You have to complicate it don't you?"

"Well, yeah, but I'm getting the point across," I replied. "Someone slapped your ass, thinking they could just do it. I need to show them that they can't because it's mine."

"And that's not possessive at all," Peeta scoffed.

"Nah-uh," I replied. I sat back on my heels to examine my work. Across the small of his back was 'PROPERTY OF CATO HADLEY. HANDS OFF!' written in block letters with a small cartoonic skull and crossbones and an arrow pointing downwards to underneath the waistband of his jeans. "There, done."

"God, my back is killing me," Peeta said, straigthening up. He tried to twist around to see what I'd drawn but just couldn't turn that way. I smiled as he kept twisting around in circles like a puppy chasing it's tail. "Damn it Cato, what did you write?"

"Relax, it's not anything bad," I said. I took in our surroundings in the cubicle and smirked. "Since we're here, can I please-"

"No," he said. "We're not having cubicle sex."

"Aw, _please," _I whined, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him flush against me. "Come on, you know you want to." My lips tapped kisses down the side of his face and back behind his ear.

"Oh you know I really don't," Peeta replied, tilting his head over to the side for more access. "Because it's disgusting." He moaned when I nibbled on his earlobe, pushing back on his shoulders. "Come on, stop, you're being unfair."

"No I'm not," I mumbled, sliding my mouth down to bury into his neck. I sucked on a particularly sensitive piece of skin and his hands slid into my hair, holding my head there to keep going. "I'm taking this as a go ahead, yes?" I asked.

"No," Peeta answered, fighting his point to the bitter end. Smirking, I pulled back and smashed my lips against his so hard he stumbled backwards into the wall. He groaned his assent and opened his mouth for me, letting me explore inside. I bit his full bottom lip and took my time worrying it with my teeth, loving the feeling of him raking his nails across my scalp.

Noticing a small hook in the wall above Peeta's head, I let my hands wander down his chest to his waist, unbuckling his belt and slipping it out of the loops. While lost in the euphoria of the kiss, he didn't notice that when I pinned his arms above his head I was really wrapping the belt around his wrists and was buckling them around the hook.

Of course, he did realize at one point. And that's when he stopped kissing me. "Cato, what are you doing?" he asked cautiously.

"Well you said you didn't want to have sex," I explained. "And I do. The only way it would work for either of us is if I restrained you against something so you wouldn't leave."

"How does that work out for both of us?!" Peeta tugged on his wrists and looked at me angrily. There was no point in argueing about it. There was no way I could wait until we got home, not with the hard on I was sporting, so binding him to something was the only way it was going to work. I knew the fact of my bonding him to something wasn't scaring him like it would have had in the past because of the 'I'm going to kill you,' look he was currently giving me.

"Believe me, it _will_ work out in your favour," I said.

"Yeah, well, you didn't think it through because my feet are planted firmly on the ground, my wrists are bound together so there's no way you can get my clothes off!" Peeta replied, making a point of it with an indignant nod.

"You think I haven't gotten people out of their clothes in harder situations than this?" I asked. Peeta looked unsure, no longer looking smug. I bent down and whispered in his ear, "Plus that's my t-shirt you're wearing, you do think I really care if it gets ripped?"

Peeta narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't," he stated.

"Oh really?" To prove my point, I took the collar of the shirt and tore it right down the midldle. I immediately raked my eyes over the exposed skin hungrily, wishing I could just devour him. If only he wasn't being so prude.

"You're a real asshat, you know that?" asked Peeta.

"Why? Because I'm actually complimenting you by being unable to control my urges around you?" I asked back, my hands gliding over his chest and stomach appreictaively. I'd never tied him up standing before and I began to wonder why. His torso was stretched as his arms were pulled above his head so the muscles contracted and heaved so beautifully I almost lost it right there.

"Why do I always choose the sex addicts?" Peeta asked himself.

"I am not a sex addict," I said, slightly offended. "We're enjoying ourselves before Alex comes home, yes?"

"Yes," he answered begrudingly. I smiled and flicked my thumb over his nipple, jumping when he squeaked loudly.

"Wow, what was that?" I asked.

"Still . . . sensitive . . . from . . . carrying . . . baby," he panted heavily, pulling on his bound hands desperately. I pinched him, smirking when he cried out in ecstasy and bowed off the wall.

"Wow, pregnancy sure has done a number on ya, huh?" I grinned, focusing more attention on the area that I'd normally just skim over, the knowledge that carrying a baby has made them more raw and sensitive amusing me. I kissed his cheek and he whimpered in pleasure as I continued to rub. Pulling back, I chuckled. "I have an idea."

Peeta whined as I got up and left the cubicle momentarily, despaired at the loss of my fingers on him. "What are you doing?" he whinged, tugging harder on his restraints.

"There's an ice cube machine outside," I said.

His eyes widened when I returned with a cold glass of water with ice bobbing on top. "You ass," he said. I grinned and twirled the glass around in my hand.

"And you love it," I replied, pecking his lips and pulling the first cube out of the glass.

"Not fair! My nipples are vulnerable right now!" he protested, eyeing carefully as he watched the light glisten on the ice cube in my hand. "That's taking advantage!" I smirked and circled his belly button with the cube. The muscles in his abdamon contracted against the cold and he shivered as he trailed it up to his chest.

Looking at his chest now, I'm surprised I didn't predict he'd be sensitive there. His nipples looked achingly taut and raw, almost painful. I pressed the cube against one and he moaned, falling backwards against the wall and puffing air like a steam train. "Does that feel good baby?" I purred, circling the sensitive nubs carefully. Peeta nodded, his entire face red, moaning when I pulled the cube away and pinched them.

When the cube had melted in my hand, I put the glass down on the floor and looked at his jeans. Peeta smirked. "I can't wait to see how you do this," he said breathily, still recovering from the attack on his nipples.

"Not too hard," I said, making quick work of the button and zipper so that the waistband hung off his slim hips, almost sliding down his thighs. I wondered what my teenage years would have been like if porn magazines had came with pictures like what was standing before me in them. I probably would have masturbated a lot more. "I thought you didn't want cubicle sex," I said, gesturing to the bugle in Peeta's underwear.

"I don't. Friction causes stimulation and these goddamn jeans have been rubbing me up the wrong way all night," he replied.

"Well that's not fair, that's my job," I teased. I then pushed the jeans down his legs until they stopped at his ankles. "I want to keep the sneakers on," I decided.

"What?!"

"I always tell you how much I love them," I said, sitting down on the floor, grabbing his ankle and pulling it off the floor and working to get the fabric over the shoe. "I think it'd be incredibly hot for you to wear nothing but them." When the fabric finally came over the shoe, I let go of his ankle and looked at the metal prostetic.

"This is where I start winning again," Peeta stated smugly.

I tried to move the thing and swore when it wouldn't budge. "Fuck, how heavy is that thing?!"

"Why do you think I found it so hard to walk?" he replied. "A lot of the problem was that the goddamn thing was too heavy for me to carry!" I shrugged and leaned back on my heels.

"Oh well, one leg in, one leg out is good enough for me," I said. I kissed the inflamed skin of the stump where he so rarely lets me see without the leg attatched. His skin was baby smooth, no trace of any hair anywhere. He'd told me why he had scarsely any hair on his body one night last year and why not even fair hairs would grow back.

When in Finnick's clutches when he was a prostitute, Peeta told me that his captor had just raped-I'd decided that any time they'd had sex was rape-him in the bathtub when Finnick suddenly decided that he was too hairy and he didn't like it. So that night, he went out and bought a box of wax strips and hot wax and stripped Peeta of all his hair. Then used some product he'd developed himself to stop it from growing back or ingrowing.

"Okay, if this is how this is going to go down, then you'd better strip fair and quick," Peeta said. "Because since I can't touch anything since someone quite rudely bound my hands together. At least give me something to look at." I snorted in amusement before pulling my shirt off and shucking off my jeans. Peeta pouted, pulling on his wrists desperately. "Ack come on, stop being so cruel! Have you no mercy?!"

"You told me to strip!" I replied.

"But I can't touch you!" he moaned. "That's cruelty Cato Hadley!"

"I have a feeling you'll survive," I replied. I pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. My hand pressed against the bulge in his underwear and he moaned, squirming helplessy. "The best thing though is that I can squeeze your crotch and not have to say goodbye." To punctuate the point, I gave him a hard squeeze.

"Cato!" Peeta cried. "Just do it now, _please!"_

"So you want it all of a sudden?"

"Yes!" he begged. "Please!"

Not needing to be told twice, I removed the last article of clothing on both our bodies. The red sneakers on Peeta's feet shone out like a beacon and I was stunned by how he could have possibly looked any more sexier than I'd already believe him to be and yet he pulled it off without even trying. Pressing my body against his and kissing him again, my hands slid down the curve of his back.

"Another perk is that I don't have to be hoping for good luck to slap your rear," I teased.

"Ha!" Peeta snorted. He smiled at me. "At least let me suck your fingers." He batted his eyelashes and gave me the puppy dog eyes. He wound his good leg around mine and pulled me tighter against him. Giving another innocent bat of the eyelashes, he bit his lip. "Please?"

"Fine," I replied, holding two fingers up to his lips. Making a giant show out of it, Peeta slowly wrapped his lips around them and slowly sucked, letting his eyes flutter shut. He moaned and swirled his tongue around the digits, bobbing his head up and down. It felt so good and I knew that he knew he was riling me up. "Okay, that's enough."

"Why? Can't you handle it?" he asked.

"I can handle it good and well," I replied, inserting a finger into him. Peeta groaned and dropped his head onto my shoulder. "I've been wanting this since I caught the first person checking you out when we came in."

"You are horrible at handling jealously," Peeta choked. He squirmed as he adjusted to me, his hands trembling as he clutched my arms in a death grip. I scissored him as gently as I could, watching him moan and writhe against the wall with avid interest. "Oh fuck Cato, get inside me _now!_"

Chuckling, I grabbed his thighs and hoisted him up to me. Peeta immediately wrapped his legs around my waist, choking on a groan when my hard on brushed his entrance. As soon as I pushed into him, he screamed in ecstasy and gasped for breath. I wrapped my arms around his back to keep him balanced as I began to thrust into him.

"Uh . . . ngh . . . Cato!" Peeta cried. His leg slipped off my waist and slammed into the oppisote wall, the rubber of the converse sneaker creating a loud bang. The muscles in his arms strained as he fought to keep his other leg wrapped around me, his face melted into pure pleasure.

I groaned, speeding up my movements the closer I got to my finish. Peeta came first, his face contorted in concentration as he exploded into my stomach with a loud cry. I followed soon after, filling him to the hilt with my seed with a grunt. Completely spent, Peeta's legs fell to the floor, his knees bowing inwards with exhaustion. I smiled and pressed my forehead to his, pecking his nose with my lips.

"I love you Peeta bread," I whispered.

"I love you too Catoire," he replied.

"Always and Forever."

Shortly thereafter, Cato emerged from the bathroom looking pleased. A moment later, Peeta stumbled out; hair ruffled, walking slightly funny, a dazzled expression worn on his face. All the men in the club watched enviously as the baker fixed up his hair and tried to look nochalant while weaving through the club, furiously fixing his clothes as he tried to keep up with Cato. Some jealous of the fact that the young blond had gotten fucked in the men's room by the Greek God with the chiseled abs while others were jealous of the fact that they weren't the ones fucking the innocent boy with the tight ass.

They'd made it clear enough though. They were together.

And no-one was going to tear them apart.

Not ever again.

_A/N: One more chapter left guys! No preview this time, sorry. Gonna leave it all for surprise ;)_

_Please R&R! :D_


	23. The last one

_A/N: Here it is guys! The last one! Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own the hunger games_

Chapter Twenty Three

**Peeta's POV**

I panted uncontrollably as his lips moved in sync with mine, my arms securely wrapped around his neck and my legs wound around his waist. Shivers jitter down my spine as he traced patterns on my back with his fingertips while his spare hand was pressed against my backside. It was only supposed to be a chaste kiss. A quick peck before bed but after the hardship of the past few months, it's been difficult to keep anything quick and subdued. Both of us have been like pressure cookers just waiting to explode, the inability to do anything but kiss turning out to be the most difficult thing we'd ever tried to accomplish.

Cato had only just slid his lips down to bury them into my neck when the green lights on the baby moniter went haywire, the cries of our son ringing out in the otherwise quiet room. We both groaned in unison, me slipping out from underneath Cato and sliding off the bed. He caught me before I made it too far, his arms winding around my waist as he prevented me from moving any further.

"Hey," he said. "We're supposed to be teaching him to be independant. He's only crying because he knows you're going to come and pick him up." I had always hated the periods of time when Katniss and I had to teach Jennifer and Josh to sleep on their own. I always ended up being the one who cracked, sneaking out when my wife was asleep to check on them because I couldn't bear to hear them cry.

"Sometimes independance needs a break," I replied quietly as Alex continued to cry on the other end of the moniter.

"Come on baby, be strong," Cato murmered, nuzzling his nose behind my ear. I sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, trying to seperate the rational side of my mind to the daddy dearest side that wanted nothing more than for me to break away from my boyfriend and rush into the next room to cradle my son to sleep. Alex sounded so scared, so alone, so frightened, that I couldn't help it. I had to go in and check on him.

Cato sighed as I broke out of his hold on me and went into the next room where Alex lay in his cradle, his face screwed up and flushed red as he howled. My heart pained at the sight of him upset, so I scooped him up into my arms and held him close to me. "Sssh, little guy, it's alright," I soothed, gently swaying side to side. "Daddy's here. It's okay. Sssh." Alex's weeping soon faded out and I held him for a couple more minutes, rocking back and forth to make sure he was definitely okay.

"You are so soft," Cato said with amusement. I turned on my heel and saw him standing at the door, watching us. I smiled softly and kissed the top of Alex's head.

"Yeah, and?" I asked almost defensively. "A couple more weeks of coddling won't do him no harm."

Alexander had gotten so big in the past few weeks, his ordinary feeding and inability to walk causing his weight to grow to a regular mass for a child his age. It was still so scary how he had grown so quickly. In another two weeks he'd be old enough to start learning how to take his first steps. Cato loves how protective I get over the baby, wanting to check on him so often and almost spoiling him with kisses and cuddles.

"It's so sweet watching you in Dad mode," he said with a smile as I gently lowered Alex back down into his cradle. His eyes had slid shut peacefully some time while I had been rocking him and I hoped he wouldn't wake up again tonight. Cato approached the cradle and stood beside me, beaming like the Papa he was. "Now," he said, talking to the sleeping baby, "you're giving me a run for my money little guy, diverting all of your daddy's attention like that."

Alex smiled in his sleep, like he heard what Papa was saying and was proud of how he had me wrapped around his tiny pinkie finger.

"I doubt we're ever going to get a chance to breathe," Cato sighed. "Is this what it's like to raise a child?"

I shrugged. "I guess. It's worth it all though. The dirty nappies, the late nights, early mornings, the crying, the struenous ignorance of how much your libido is screaming at you from lack of activity . . . it's all worth it to watch your child grow up."

"I know it is baby," Cato replied, his arm sliding over my shoulders almost instinctively as we gazed down at Alex. "He looks just like you."

I smiled softly. "I can see Finnick in him," I replied quietly. "He has his smile, his eyes . . . I thought it would disturb me but it doesn't . . . Someday that boy is going to grow up and want to know the truth about his father and I don't know what we're going to tell him."

"We're going to tell him that his father died doing something incredibly noble. Saving your and his life," Cato answered. "We can tell him that he loved his daddy very much and would have done anything to keep him safe. That he would have rather of died than have let any harm come to him."

"Do you think that would be enough?" I whispered.

Cato kissed the top of my head and patted my shoulder. "I'm sure of it."

~xXx~

My eyes droop shut at the kitchen table, baby spoon still in hand, and my head dips down as I nearly fall asleep. Alex makes a small whining sound and I snap back to attention, my hazy pupils locking on him sitting in his high chair. He blinks his green eyes at me, waiting for me to give him the food on the spoon. How he can cry all night and still manage to stay awake is beyond me.

"Sorry sport," I said sleepily, quickly rubbing my eyes and spoon feeding him his porridge. Cato appeared in the doorway after having taken out the garbage. He'd gotten a good night's sleep, not finding it hard in the slightest to teach our son independance.

"Here, let me do that," he said, taking the spoon out of my hand and scooping some oats out of Alex's small Winnie the Pooh bowl. I immediately moved across the kitchen and turned on the coffee machine. It's times like this where I remembered why Katniss and I agreed to not have any more kids. I felt like I was going to pass out right there on the spot. Cato was right, I was too soft. If I had of let Alex cry last night and learn that he had to start sleeping without me then I'd be much less exhausted now.

It's cute watching Cato in Papa mode. He completely dotes on Alex and spoils him in different ways as to the way I spoil him. Where I'd kiss and coddle him, Cato would see a small pair of baby boots in a store window and immeidately have to buy them.

"Right, this is a special spoonful, okay? You ready for it Al?" I turned around and couldn't fight the smile that broke out onto my face as I watched Cato feed Alex. Our son absoloutely loved his Papa, always behaving when he was around and never failing to laugh at him when he joked around.

"He likes you better," I said.

Cato chuckled. "I think he likes us both just the same. I mean, you are the one who goes to him every night."

"Which won't help his personality growth at all," I replied, sitting down on the spare seat beside him with two cups of coffee. "Plus I feel kind of empty when I'm not holding him in my arms." Alex cooed and wrapped his small hands around the handles of his sippy cup, bringing it up to his mouth and slowly sucking on it. "Has he finished the porridge?"

Cato showed me the empty bowl. "All gone," he said.

"Wow, when Jen was his age we were lucky if we could get a single morsel in her," I commented.

"Well, Alex does like his porridge, don't you Al?" Cato ruffled the small blond hairs that were sprouting up at the top of Alexander's head, prompting the baby to laugh his cute little high pitched giggle. Droplets of juice slipped out from the hole at the top of the sippy cup and slid down his chin. I chuckled and leaned over to wipe it up with his bib.

The front door opened and Katniss' voice echoed down the hall. "Guys? Where are you?"

"Kitchen!" I called.

Jennifer ran into the room, a plastic bag in hand. Her face lit up as soon as she saw Alex sitting by the table. "Hey Alex," she cooed, kneeling beside the chair. "How's my little baby brother, huh?" As far as Jennifer and Josh knew, the time Cato and I spent away was a long period we spent in a different district, looking after a surrogate who's womb we rented out to carry a baby with my and her DNA. There was no way we were going to tell them that I was the one who, in fact, carried the baby for nine months. A surrogate just seemed like the best idea.

"He's great," Cato said. "Just finished eating his porridge."

"Ew, digusting," Josh said, entering the kitchen as well. "Does all baby food have to be prisoner food?" He looked at Alex and raised his eyebrows. "I feel sorry for you buddy."

"As a matter of fact, Josh," Katniss said as she also came into the kitchen, "you ate porridge for the first few months you were able to eat solid food." Her braid was wrapped around in a bun that was held together by chopsticks. They'd all obviously just went shopping as she was laboured down by designer store bags.

"I did not!" Josh protested.

"You did so," Jennifer replied. "I remember very clearly." She plopped her plastic bag down onto the table. "Look what we bought!" Digging her hand into the bag, she pulled out a blue teddy bear with an 'A' sewn into the stomach. "We just saw it and thought of Alex."

"Oh Jen, it's lovely," I said, taking the bear from her and examining the toy's fluffly fur and brown glass eyes. "Hey, look little guy, look what your brother and sister got you." Noticing the bear immiedately, Alex's eyes lit up and he reached out for it. I held it closer to him and let him take it from me himself.

"God, he's grown so much," Katniss said, pulling up a chair and sitting down. "How often are you feeding him? Every couple of hours?" She grinned at our unimpressed faces and chuckled. "I'm kidding. Is he walking yet?"

Cato shook his head. "Nope, not yet."

"We're hoping for soon though," I put in.

"Ew!" Jennifer exclaimed. "He's eating the bear's ear!" Alex had somehow managed to have gotten his mouth wrapped around the toy's fluffy ear and was chewing on it. Cato thinks he's about to enter the teething stage which means he'll start chewing on anything and everything he can get his teeny tiny hands on.

"He's obviously teething Jen," Josh scoffed, shaking his head. "And you're supposed to be the smart one."

"I am the smart one," Jennifer said indignantly. "Smarter than you anyway."

"Okay guys, keep the peace," I said. "Don't fight, please."

"Teething," Katniss mused. "Hold on, I think I've still got some of Josh's teeth gel." She pulled her hand bag around to rest on her lap and rummanged inside it. Josh pulled a face of disgust, moving to stand beside his mom and watching her as she pulled numerous needless objects out of her bag.

"Does teething gel not go out of date or something?" he asked.

"This stuff's perserved. Came straight from the Capitol itself," Katniss replied. "Worked miracles . . . ah-ha!" She pulled a small tube out of a small pocket in the bag and held it out in her palm. "As soon as he starts crying with pain, give him some of this." I took the gel tube and read the label.

"Oh yeah, I think I remember this stuff," I said. "A single drop prevented crying for weeks."

"No need to thank me," Katniss said. "As co-godmother, it's my job." Katniss shared the godmother title with Clove. Since we didn't really know anyone who could fit the godfather title, we made Katniss and Clove co-godmothers. Heaven forbid anything did happen to Cato and I, we trusted the both of them with the responsibility of looking after Alex and raising him the right way. "Anyway, we'd better be going. Looking at your kitchen reminds me that a certain someone said they'd clean up ours." Katniss raised her eyebrows at Jennifer.

"What? I'll get to it!" she said.

"Of course you will," Katniss replied. "As soon as we get home."

Jen groaned and stood up, "Okay, okay," she said. "Fine."

"Katniss," I said, "Can I talk to you a minute?" Nodding, Katniss stood up and followed me as I weaved around the table out into the hallway. She knew what I wanted and was already fumbling in her jeans for it when we came to a stop by the door. "Have you got it?"

"Yeah, just a sec," she said. Finally, she pulled out the small card with a flourish. "Ereka! Seneca's Tattoo Parlour! Here. It's got the $50 you asked for on it. Should be enough."

I gazed down at the gift card nervously. "You think he'll like it?" I asked.

My ex-wife nodded enthusiastically. "Trust me. He's going to love it."

**The Next Week: 9:30pm**

Okay, maybe I didn't think this through. The bulk of the bandage stuck out at the front of my t-shirt and trousers like a second baby bump and the other one was making the back of my neck sweat like it would on a boiling hot day, making the fresh scar sting. If my numbers were right, Cato would just be putting Alex to bed when I arrived. I jabbed my key in the lock and twisted it, pushing into the house.

"Cato?" I called. "You home?"

"Yeah," Cato replied from upstairs. "Just putting Al to bed."

"Okay." I sat down on the couch and twiddled with my thumbs. I didn't regret what I'd done but it didn't stop me from worrying about whether Cato would like it or not. Would such an impulsive decision ruin our relationship? No. It couldn't . . . right? I mean, the scars had just been completely removed recently, could replacing them with these just make it worse? Or better?

"Hey," Cato said as he came down the stairs and into the living room. "Where have you been all day?"

I shrugged. "Just out."

He sat down beside me and sighed, very probably exhausted from spending the day with Alex. It took him a moment to notice the bandages bulging out from the back of my shirt and front of my pants but when he did, he sat up with a frown and ran his fingertips along it. "What happened? Did you hurt yourself? Is it Finnick's scars?" he questioned.

"N-no, I'm not hurt," I said. "I just . . . well . . . have a look for yourself." Cato quirked a curious eyebrow and I nodded, turning around on the sofa so my back was facing him. "Take a look." Cato fiddled with medic tape, peeling it back to take a look at what was beneath it. I waited for his reaction, ready for either raging anger or unrequited happiness.

"When it did you . . . is this what you were doing . . . all day?" he asked, stumbling through the sentence.

"Yeah," I replied. "Is it okay? Do you hate it?"

"No it's . . . amazing . . . I mean, wow."

I decided to get the 'C' tattooed onto the back of my neck a couple of weeks ago. I knew that there were all those, 'don't get partner's initials or names tattooed onto yourself', but there was nothing I had more faith in than my relationship with Cato. And since Cato had loved me even when I had another man's name on my body, I thought it was only fitting to get the _real_ man that I loved's name on myself. It didn't hurt . . . that much. Certainly not as much as it had hurt getting the 'F'.

Putting two and two together, Cato asked me to stand up. Unable to fight the smile I felt creeping onto my face as he undid the belt of my jeans, fumbling for the first time ever, and moved the opened the fly out of the way to peel off the bandage there as well. Indeed, the 'H' I had inked there was right below my navel where the 'O' had previously been.

"It's bad, isn't it? I messed up," I said, taking his silence as an action of hate.

"No, I love it," Cato replied, his eyes as round as dinner plates in shock. "Is it painful?"

"Stings a bit. They said I had to keep the bandages on to prevent contamination," I explained, fixing the one on the back of my neck so that it covered the 'C' again. "It should be okay in a couple of days to a week. So you like it then?"

"It's beautiful!" Cato's eyes studied the 'H' carefully, fingering the slope and swirl of the design I had chosen. "I can't believe you actually did this. That you have enough faith in me to have done it. I love you so much." He wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his head on my stomach. I smiled and ran my fingers through his hair.

"I love you too."

We stayed like that for a while: me standing while Cato sat on the couch, his cheek pressed against my stomach, the way he'd done so many times when I was pregnant. He ran his hand up and down my leg, nothing able to remove the smile from his face. "You know what I'm thinking?" he murmered.

"What?" I asked.

"I'm thinking that we haven't had couch sex in a long time," he said quietly. "And Alex is out for the count."

I smirked. "Oh really?"

Smirking, Cato stood up and pulled me in for a quick kiss. "Isn't it lucky that I just recently got some new toys to try and spice up the bedroom?" he mumbled against my mouth.

"What sort of toys?" I asked skeptically.

"Warming lotion," Cato murmered, skimming his nose up my jaw and pressing a kiss below my ear, "a cock ring," he curled his tongue under my earlobe and took it into his mouth it suck on, "and a vibrator."

"Oh jesus Cato," I gasped, my face heating up. "What about Alex?"

"Don't ruin the moment," Cato said seductively, taking my hand and leading me to the bedroom. "We haven't had sex in two months." I stopped him outside the bedroom door and sighed..

"Look, I know we haven't had sex in . . ." Cato wrapped his arm around my waist and lowered his mouth to my neck. I groaned, needy for ages without getting some. " . . . forever, but I'm-" He slowly ran his tongue up my neck and up my jaw. I moaned again, completely forgetting what I was going to say. "Okay, fuck it."

Thank god my screaming didn't wake up Alex.

**Cato: A week later:**

Alex was nestled securely in the baby carrier I had on, his head resting comfortably on my chest. He was fast asleep, not even bothered as I moved around the living room with the vacumn cleaner. Peeta was in the bathroom-he hasn't been well the last week since we finally had sex again. I guessed maybe he took a bad reaction to the warming lotion and it had made him ill. Alex balled his small fists up in my shirt and yawned, and I was unable to keep the smile off my face.

That is, until Peeta screamed.

"Peeta?" I called. "You okay babe? Is it another spider?"

"Holy mother of fucking god!"

My eyes widened in horror and I kicked the vacumn off, covering Alex's ears even though he was sleeping. "What is it? What's wrong?" I demanded. "Peeta? Peeta!" The bottom floor bathroom's door was kicked open and something was flung out. I sighed and approached the item, not sure what I was expecting to see.

That's why I nearly passed out when I saw the pregnancy test.

"No," I murmered, bending down and scooping it up. "No, no, no, no no."

Yes.

Peeta was pregnant.

Again.

It turned out that Finnick hadn't injected one egg into Peeta that time he gave him the jab. He had given him many. Several of them had dissipated over the past few months but my and Peeta having sex last week turned out to have caused one of my guys to have met one of the eggs.

Which made Peeta pregnant again.

~xXx~

We couldn't hide it from Jennifer and Josh this time round. They found out once Peeta's baby bump started returning once more. Of course they freaked out-who wouldn't? But they eventually got used to the idea, sending toys and cards and pregnancy joke poems. Clove even sent a jumbo jar of peanut butter.

"You said you didn't tell anyone about the peanut butter!" Peeta exclaimed, reading the card on the lid.

"It was pretty obvious babe, there was no peanut butter what-so-ever in the apartment," I said. "Through your entire pregnancy." Alex laughed in his walkie as if understanding what I said.

"You're supposed to be on my side buddy, I carried you for nine months!" Peeta said. Alex stared up at him innocently, biting his fist and causing drool to fall out of his mouth. "Don't try to cute me up, I see how it is. You're siding with Papa." Pushing his small chubby legs forward to push his walkie in the right direction, Alex nuzzled his head against Peeta's leg. I grinned as I watched Peeta melt. "Come here little guy." He grabbed his armpits and lifted him up, hugging him close to his chest.

"You coddle him too much," I commented.

"Oh shut up," Peeta sighed. He rested his hand on the already growing bump and rubbed self conciously. "Just open the jar." He tossed me the peanut butter jar, which I caught easily and popped open. I handed him it back and laughed as he put Alex back into his walkie and started spooning out the butter with his pinky finger.

"Oh, come on seriously? You've been pregnant for what? Less than a month?" I exclaimed. "And you're already having the peanut butter craving again?" Peeta pulled a look as innocent as Alex's and continued to lick the butter off his finger.

"Maybe I just want some peanut butter," he said.

"You hate peanut butter except for when you're pregnant," I pointed out.

"Okay, I want the butter, alright?" Peeta admitted. "Just leave me and Cato Jr. alone."

I laughed. "Cato Jr.?"

Peeta paused and raised an eyebrow. "Well yeah. This one's yours. Doesn't that count for something?" he asked.

"Well . . . yeah, I guess," I replied. "Although, I'm worried about how you expect me to share my love for Alex with another child. I feel it's going to be impossible." Said child started scooting around in his walkie, prompting me to plant a foot in front of it as he neared the exit of the room. The baby was a born explorer, always wanting to get out of Peeta and I's clutches to get somewhere interesting.

"You see, that's what I thought," Peeta said. "But it's actually not that hard. Once you have them in your arms it's just sort of . . . feels . . . right. And-might I add-this one is on your head as you insisted so excitedly that Alex was out for the count and that we would be safe trying out some of your . . . _toys._"

"New life: the product of warming lotion and a cock ring," I mused.

"Oh that's very poetic," Peeta said sarcasitcally.

"I know," I winked, "it's my charm."

"You do know what this means, right?" Peeta asked, a smirk suddenly gracing his face. Uh-oh. That can't be good.

"What?" I asked.

Peeta crouched beside Alex and gently laid his hands over the baby's ears. "It's means no sex again. For nine. Whole. Months."

Oh crap.

~xXx~

Damn him. Damn him and his stupid ability to get pregnant and his golden hair and glittering blue eyes and plump mouth and natural sexiness. Damn him. Damn him. Damn him!

I watched him enviously from our bed as he came in from putting the baby to bed. "What time is it?" Peeta asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed and fiddling with the clasp of his boots. I clenched my jaw and glanced at the clock on the nightstand.

"Eight o'clock," I answered. Peeta nodded and reached behind himself to pull his shirt off. Was he doing this on purpose? I swear to god, if he's not careful, I'm going to have to fuck him pregnant or not.

"Oh god, Cato, if I'm going to end up having eggs like a woman then I'm going to have to cut off your dick because I am not going to carry another baby as long as I live." Peeta unbuckled his pants and shucked them off. "Maybe next time _you_ can carry the baby, huh?" He pushed back onto the bed and leaned his back against the headboard. He's been pregnant again for a couple of months and the famaliar baby bump is once more growing.

I shrugged. "I'd give it a go but I'm not the one with the weird scientific egg stuffs inside me."

Peeta sighed and rested his head on my shoulder. "Do you think we can do this again?" he asked. "We can barely keep a hold of Alex what with his wanting to wander everywhere at once. Do you think we can handle keeping track of another one?"

"I think we could," I answered. "I mean, it'll be difficult, but I do think we could do it."

"Easy for you to say. You don't have to go through pregnancy," Peeta muttered. "I'm already going through the stupid horny 24/7 phase."

I laughed. "Really? You need any help with that?"

"Don't tempt me." Peeta pulled his head away from my shoulder and sighed. "I'm a man of my word and I'm not letting you have sex with me until I've given birth again." He paused. "Can't say I thought I'd have to say that again."

"It's not like it's going to defile the baby or anything. In fact, I've heard it does nothing what-so-ever to the fetus. And if you're in the mood for it then I don't see the problem." Okay, I wasn't just saying this to cover for my own need for release. I cupped his cheeks and pulled his face towards me. Lost in the moment, Peeta let his eyes flutter shut and swung his leg over to sit on my lap.

"I know I'm irresistable what with the hot flashes and swollen ankles but I think you can handle yourself pretty well," he murmered.

"Oh really?" I purred, brushing my lips against his and sliding them down his neck to his shoulder. "Are you sure about that?" Peeta moaned, his thighs tightening over mine and his hands running up my chest to hook around my neck.

"Maybe a little bit is okay," he conceeded, his head falling back when I nipped at his soft skin with my teeth.

"Hmm?" I hummed, slowly circling my tongue around the bitten area.

"Mmm-hmm."

Smiling, I hooked my arms under his butt and pulled him up against my chest so that I could get onto my knees on the bed. The baby bump made it difficult to kiss like that so I lowered him back onto the bed so that I loomed over him. "You're so beautiful," I whispered, brushing some hair out of his eyes.

"No, I'm not," he replied, wrapping his arms around my neck and pulling my forehead down to rest against his. "You're more beautiful than I am. Only you're also handsome, hot and incredibly sexy." I laughed and kissed him hard. As my lips trailed down his neck, I felt his bump press against my stomach.

"What do you think? Girl? Or Boy?" I murmered agaisnt his skin.

Peeta shrugged, his fingers threading through my hair. "What do you think?"

"Um, another boy?" I guessed. I shifted down his body, pressing kisses down his chest until I reached his stomach, where I rested my head and listened for the baby inside.

"They say that the mother carrying the baby has a hunch over what the gender is," Peeta pointed out. "Because the baby is inside them and all."

"Well, what do you think?" I asked, stroking the bump gently with my fingertips.

"I think it's a girl."

"Really? A girl?" I murmered. "A little sister for Alex, hmmm?"

Peeta nodded. "A little sister for Alex."

~xXx~

"Isabelle!" I called up the stairs. "If you aren't downstairs in five minutes, your dad's going to feed your waffle to the dog!"

A door opened upstairs and footsteps thundered down the hall. "What dog?!" Isabelle screeched, her head appearing at the top of the stairs. Her ashy blonde hair was piled up in a bun ontop of her head and her face was plastered in makeup.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I say a dog? I meant I was going to eat it," I said, walking back into the kitchen. Isabelle groaned and stomped down the stairs. She jumped on the last step and ran past me, making sure I didn't make it to her breakfast plate before she did. She nearly toppled over the chair but grabbed the edge of the table with a yelp to steady herself.

Peeta popped up from behind the kitchen counter with a frown on his face. "I didn't know you were the family dog," he said.

Isabelle scoffed. "Neither did I," she said.

"Alex!" Peeta yelled. "Breakfast!"

"Be quick or the dog will eat it!" Isabelle added.

Alex jumped down the steps five at a time. "We have a dog?" he asked when he reached the bottom. "I didn't know we had a dog."

"We don't," Isabelle dully replied. "Papa's the dog."

"What?!"

"Never mind the non-existant dog," Peeta chuckled, putting plates of waffles down on the table. "Eat." Alex plopped down onto his seat across from Izzy.

"Yes dad," they both said in unsion.

"Yes dad," I said as well.

Peeta tsked and swatted me in the arm. "Behave," he warned. We sat down and all took a waffle each. Peeta's baking was always the best thing about the morning. It even made the kids shut up and not argue for five minutes while they ate.

"What's with all the make-up Izzy?" I asked. Isabelle threw a glare at him and I raised my eyebrow at her. "Don't give me that look missy, what's with the paint?"

"It's not paint paps," Isabelle grumbled. "It's make-up. Lora gave me some. It's pretty itchy but look how cool I look!" Alex snorted and opened his mouth to day something-only to be hushed by a warning look from Peeta. "Just chill, it's just not that bad. I'm sixteen now, I can make my own decisions!"

"Calm down Izzy," Peeta said. "When's Lora and co. coming round anyway?"

"Around one o'clock," Isabelle answered.

"Wait, who's coming around?" I asked.

"Just Lora, Holly and Sarah," she replied flippantly. Alex groaned and banged his head off the table. Isabelle looked at him, her gaze full of disdain. "What's wrong with you?" she asked.

Peeta grinned. "Sarah's got a crush on Alex," he said.

"What!?" I exlcaimed.

Isabelle looked horrified. "No she doesn't!"

"Oh so the notes in my locker at school signed from 'Sarah' are just, what? Delievered wrong?" Alex grumbled through the table.

"Sarah sends you notes?" I asked, slightly amused.

"No!" Isabelle interuppted. "She's obviously got higher standards than you Al! She likes guys like Channing Tatum and Taylor Lautner! You know, proper guys!" Peeta was hiding his smile with his hand and looking anywhere but at our children. Obviously, he'd seen these notes from Isabelle's best friend.

"Do you think it's any easier for me Izzy? You _need_ to tell her I'm gay!" Alex exclaimed. "Tell her that _I _also like guys like Channing Tatum and Taylor Lautner!"

"Isabelle's friends don't even know that _we're_ gay Al," I said. "She doesn't know how to break it to them." Izzy was afraid to tell her friends that she'd been raised by two homosexual men. For the past sixteen years they've believed that her mother ran off on her. "They think your dad's my cleaner."

"They _what?!_" Peeta exclaimed.

I frowned. "I thought you knew."

Isabelle had the decency to look a bit sheepish. "I'm sorry dad, it's just . . . they saw Paps first and you were doing the dishes in the kitchen. It just sort of came out, I didn't mean it. Plus, if it makes you feel any better, they didn't believe it at first."

"So . . . are your friends homophobes or what?" Alex asked.

"Nah," Isabelle said. "I just don't know how to break it to them."

"Right," Alex said slowly. "That's not strange at all. Anyway, you should tell them soon, it will make it even more difficult if I ever get a boyfriend and they see me around with him."

"Good luck finding a boyfriend who'll accept our messed up family," Isabelle replied.

"Aw come on," I said. "The family's not that bad."

Our daughter laughed as if I'd just said the funniest thing she'd ever heard. "Yes okay, sorry," she said. "It's not like we were born without a woman. We literally _don't _have a mom. No one would believe that, right? When you were our age, if someone walked up to you and said that their dad carried them for nine months, would you have believed it? I'm not even sure I believe it . . ."

"Hey, we have photographic evidence," Peeta said. "Katniss wanted to make a baby album."

"I know," Isabelle said. "I saw the photos, it's just a bit weird . . ."

"What was it like? Being pregnant, I mean?" Alex asked.

"Excruciating but worth it," Peeta replied. "It was just like any other woman being pregnant but only . . . it was me . . ."

"Which means kids, your daddy is your mother," I said. Peeta sighed and hit me upside the head, which just made it harder to keep the smile off my face. "No, in all seriousness, I hope we never have a baby again because your dad is really irritating when he's pregnant."

"Cato!" Peeta exclaimed.

"How irritating?" Isabelle asked.

"He ate all our peanut butter," I answered.

"But you hate peanut butter dad," Alex said to Peeta.

"Not when he was pregnant," I chuckled.

Peeta sighed. "I'm not getting into this," he said, getting up. "You guys finished?" I nodded and so did Alex and Isabelle. He collected up the plates and headed to the kitchen.

"This is why I told them you were the cleaner!" Isabelle called, supressing a grin.

"Don't make me ground you Izzy!" Peeta called back. This made the three of us laugh. "I'm serious! I'll ground you too Cato!"

"Sorry daddy!"

~xXx~

"_Hey DILF_."

"What?" I balanced the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I kept a firm hold of Peeta's hips as he knelt on the kitchen counter to reach something ontop of one of the cupboards. The candles were up there and Isabelle said that she needed them for a science experiment. My partner had as much balance as an elephant on a tiperope and the only way he wouldn't fall and break his neck was if I held onto him while he tried to get them.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"Katniss," I replied. "I'm sorry, what the heck is a _DILF?_"

"_Well_," Katniss began on the other end, "_you know what a MILF is right?"_

"Sadly, I do," I sighed. "Why?"

"_Izzy was over at the house and she was talking with her friends. Lora and Holly and Sarah? Yeah, well, they were talking about hot guys and then one of them - I'm not sure which one, they all look the same to me. At one point I even thought they were called Holly, Molly and Polly. Anyway, back to the point - one of them brought up Peeta and yourself." _Katniss' voice was full of amusement. She was enjoying every single word she said.

"Got them!" Peeta said. I helped him off the counter and took a hold of the phone.

"And . . . what?" I asked Katniss.

_"It turns out you're both DILFs."_

Oh god, that doesn't sound good. "And that means . . . ?"

Katniss snorted, obviously finding it difficult not to burst out laughing. _"Think about it."_ Peeta switched on the coffee maker and looked at me, pointing at it. I nodded and he got out two mugs. _"I didn't even know it was a real thing until they said it! You should have saw Izzy's face! It was priceless! Except I do believe young Sarah has a thing for your Alex."_

"Yeah but . . . Alex has . . . other interests," I said.

"I know . . . he borrowed some of Jennifer's old magazines," Katniss replied. "Of course, not that it's a bad thing but it's going to break poor Sarah's heart."

"Well, Alex's got Peeta's looks," I said. Said man turned around and quirked an eyebrow at me. I flashed him a bright smile and patted his back. "Who wouldn't fall in love with that?" Peeta handed me my coffee and I pulled him in for quick peck on the cheek. He blushed and pecked me back.

"_Yeah, well, it's better he took after him than you know who_," Katniss replied. _"Has he asked anything about his dad yet?"_

"No, but I feel it's going to come soon," I answered. "It's alright for Izzy. She knows I'm her dad but Peeta and I are still trying to figure out a way to explain to Alex about his. I mean, our vague responses aren't going to be enough and soon he's going to want to know more. What do we tell him then?"

"_Cato, he's seventeen. I think he's old enough to handle it. Even I had to explain to Jennifer and Josh about what Peeta had to do in 3. I know the stuff about Finnick is a bit more extensive but Alex deserves to know,_" Katniss said. "_Just sit him down, explain it to him. I'll even look after Izzy for the night if you want._"

"Would you?"

"_Yeah, of course. It's going to have to happen some time._"

"Okay, I'll discuss it with Peeta," I said. "Talk to you later, Katniss."

_"Talk to you later Cato."_

"Discuss what with me?" Peeta asked as I hung up the phone and put it back down on the kitchen counter. He was leaning against the far wall, sipping his coffee.

"Um . . . Katniss thinks it's about time we tell Alex the truth about his father."

Peeta shrugged. "Okay."

I frowned. "Wait, what?"

He tilted his head at me. "I said 'okay'. Why? What's wrong?"

"I just didn't expect you to be so okay with it," I replied, completely flabberghasted at how casual he was about it.

Peeta sighed, putting his mug down. "It was seventeen years ago, Cato," he said. "Katniss is right, we need to tell Alex about Finnick. We can't keep letting on like he's some man I dated for a while who liked to experiment on me for things such as male pregnancy, there's no point in it. He nearly killed me . . . but he's Alex's dad and he deserves to know . . . the truth . . ."

"I know," I sighed. "But what is the right way to tell him that his father was a pyschopath who raped and almost killed you loads of times?"

"I don't know but . . . we're going to have to tell him somehow," Peeta sighed.

Clove suddenly came into the room. Other than Alex and Isabelle, only herself and Katniss had spare keys to the house. I knew immediately that something was wrong. Her face was white, her skin ashen, and she looked like she was going to be sick. "Clove?" I asked. "What's wrong?"

"Oh god," Clove whispered, slipping into a seat by the kitchen table and putting her head in her hands. "Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god-"

"Clove!" I said a little louder. "What is it?"

"H-he's not d-dead," she whispered.

She might as well have just decked me in the face.

"What?" I asked.

Clove looked up at me, her eyes brimming with tears. She refused to look at Peeta. She was too scared to. "I was checking up on a couple of things in the morgue after the heist in the bank when I found a file from Finnick's cremation."

"And? What's wrong with that?" Peeta asked, moving away from the wall he was leaning against.

"It wasn't his body they burned."

"What?!"

"Did I fucking stutter Hadley?!" Clove snapped. "They didn't burn Finnick's body! They burnt some guy called Pedro Galligant! I asked the man at the morgue about it and he said there was no record of a Finnick Odair ever being in his morgue at all. So something happened between the time we exchanged his body to the coroner and the point where we went to the cremation."

"But . . . if-heaven forbid-if he did survive and escaped then it's been seventeen years, right?" I said. "If he wanted to come back then he hasn't, right? We're okay. Maybe he wanted to start anew?"

"He's not alive though," Peeta said shakily. "You saw him die, he stabbed his artery, there's no way he's alive!" He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and chewed on his knuckle. Clove shook her head, tugging uncertainly on her ponytail.

"Seventeen years," she said. "What's the difference between seventeen years and back then . . . ?" She thought about it for a moment before her eyes widened in horror. "Where's Alex?"

"What?" Peeta and I asked at once.

"Where's Alex?!" Clove demanded.

"He's been staying over at his friend's house for the past couple of nights," Peeta answered. "Mel Harvey, I think his name is." Clove paled even more, if that was even possible.

"Son of Maria and Jack?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said. "Why?"

"Guys, Maria, Jack and Mel Harvey were reported dead at the start of the week," Clove said, her voice termouring. "We never caught the killer. The town was put on red alert, how have you not heard this yet?"

Peeta was fumbling for his mobile, pulling it out of his pocket and ringing Alex. Even from my position across the room, I could hear Alex's voicemail._ "'Ello, this is Alex, sorry I couldn't make it to the phone, you know what to do."_ "No, no, no, no, no," Peeta muttered under his breath, redialing the number. He got his voicemail again. "Alex!"

Clove jumped out of her seat. "Where's Isabelle?" Peeta didn't answer, he was too busy redialling Alex. She turned to me. "Where's Isabelle!"

"At Sarah's house!" I replied.

"Where's that?!"

"Down the road!"

Peeta took off out of the kitchen, Clove and I close behind him. As soon as we set foot outside, there was a loud crash down the road. I whirled around and felt my blood run cold as men dressed in black bashed into Sarah's house. Immediately, the air was filled with girl's screams. "Isabelle!" Peeta screamed, taking off down the road.

"Peeta! Be careful!" Clove yelled. She pulled her gun out of her holster and ran off after him.

Only half way to the house, one of the men dragged Isabelle out, kicking and screaming. This finally made me snap into action and I bolted in the direction of Sarah's house. They were taking my daughter, my _daughter_! "Let her go!" I yelled, cursing when my hand flew to my side to find an empty holster.

"Daddy!" Isabelle screamed, struggling against the person's hold. As I got closer I realized it wasn't a man holding her at all, it was a woman. A woman with pointy teeth. Enobaria. "Let me go!"

A gunshot shattered from somehwere inside. For one horrifying moment I thought they'd shot Izzy but instead my daughter's head flew to the side to look inside Sarah's house. Her mouth fell open in horror as she saw something in the house that was out of our eyeline. "Sarah!" she screamed. "You bastards! You killed Sarah!"

"Let her go!" Peeta screamed, finally reaching the house. He was close to reaching Enobaria and Isabelle when someone suddenly flew out of the black van that was parked in front of the house and tackled him to the ground.

"Peeta!" Clove exclaimed, aiming her gun at the person who'd tackled him. Another gunshot exploded and a bullet shot through the open doorway, hitting her in her shooting arm. "Fuck!" She dropped her gun immediately and cried out in pain, slowly sinking to the grass.

"Okay!" Enobaria yelled. "One more move from anyone and a bullet goes through girlie's brain!" She pressed a nozzle against Isabelle's head, the sight immediately making me grind to a halt. Peeta stopped struggling against the person who had him pinned to the floor, his head flying to Isabelle in a panic.

"Hurt her you pointy toothed fucker and I will fucking kill you!" I screamed.

"Where's Alex?!" Peeta yelled.

"He's safe," Enobaria sneered. The person who'd tackled Peeta sat up ontop of him and pulled off their mask. Or, more importantly, _her_ mask. Because sitting ontop of him was Johanna Mason. She ruffled her hair out and sighed in agitation.

"Fuck, this is hard work," she said. She pushed herself up to a standing position but kept a foot on Peeta's chest. "Never thought to see me again, did you? Yeah, well, thank Odair."

"How the hell are you alive Mason!?" Clove yelled.

"Everything you thought you knew, is a lie," Enobaria said. "It's all different. Every death, every survival, every feeling of security you have had over the past seventeen years is all a lie. Because, we're back. We're back and this time we're not going to fucking lose!"

"Daddy," Isabelle whimpered. "What's happening?"

"Everything's going to be okay, sweetheart," I said to her.

"And there's another lie," Enobaria said.

"Give us our children back!" Peeta yelled desperately.

"I'm sorry, but last I heard, Alex was half Finnick's," Johanna said, as if she hadn't been thought dead for the past nineteen years. "He has half the legal rights to him."

"Bullshit!" Peeta snapped.

"Get her in the van," Johanna told Enobaria. "I'll watch these three." Enobaria started dragging Isabelle away and the only thing keeping me from running after her was the gun still pointed at her temple. And every inch further is was taken from me killed me to watch. Her screams brought me to the verge of tears and I had to hold myself back from killing myself. "You guys thought you'd won? Yeah, well, think again assholes. We're back baby and we're better than ever."

"Johanna! Get them all in the van!" A blonde head popped out of the driver's side of the van. A thick blond plait dropped out over the side and I almost threw up at the sight of Delly Cartwright with a gun in her hand. "Finnick said he wanted them all!"

"I can't lift them!" Johanna yelled back.

"I got them." A car door slammed shut and Gloss appeared from the other side of the van. Delly raised her gun to me to make sure I didn't make a move. Johanna moved out of the way and I watched in horror as Gloss raised his pistol to Peeta, who had made a move to get up.

"Finnick also said he wanted the blond one capped," he said. "To make sure he didn't run again."

"Don't fucking touch him!" I screamed. Clove was blindingly reaching for her gun, the slow foundation of blood coming from her arm getting thicker. There was no way she was going to be able to hold it steady enough to shoot anyone. The handheld pistol was inches from my feet and every second I couldn't make a grab for it killed me.

"No, you moron!" Delly screamed. "He said he wanted to cap him himself! You know what a fucking sicko he is!"

My mind was whirling, everything being too hard to take in. As the three of us were dragged into the van, my accelerated heartbeat made me feel like I was going to pass out. Peeta and I immediately jumped at Isabelle as soon as we got inside. We practically squished her between us as she cried hysterically. "What's happening?!" she cried. "Who's Finnick?!"

Johanna climbed into the back with us and started tending to Clove's wound. "Who's Finnick, my dear?" she asked. "Finnick, is your worst nightmare."

Everything you thought you knew is a lie.

Everything.

A lie.

A big, fat lie.

_A/N: Oh, did I say this was the end? Ooops, I'm sorry. I guess I forgot to mention that there's going to be a third story in the series. I think it's going to be called 'Light to Dark,' so keep an eye out for it._

_Everything you thought you knew, is a lie._

_Please R&R! :)_


	24. From Light to Dark Sneak Peek

_A/N: Hey guys! Here's a sneak peek at From Light to Dark! I know some of you weren't fond of the sudden twist but I hope you'll stick with the third and final book in the trilogy! To the guest reviewer who enquired about their ages, no, they're not quite pushing sixty yet, more like in their later forties. Don't let the age deterr you though. If you've ever seen the movie RED I think you'd know that older people can be badass too ;)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games_

The blond man stood in the outskirts of the forest, the black hood obscering the view of his face. His hands were clenched into fists by his sides, a knife slid into a hoslter attatched to his belt loops. Blue eyes peered over the dark material hanging over his forehead at the house sitting in the middle of the clearing. Leaves rustled in the wind around him, trees swaying in the breeze. It felt almost like yesterday when he was trapped in there. Trapped with nearly everyone he loved.

And yet he was the one who had escaped.

A woman appeared beside him, her hood hanging at her back. She had a similar knife clutched in her hands, held and poised to kill. She knew of what he had suffered. She knew of what he had went through ad she was more than eager to help. She was a woman of hate, a woman of anger. She hated everything that had happened to the one she once loved and was ready to make it all dissolve.

Out of all the people they could have freed, they chose to let him go. They believed in his ability to get them out. They trusted him to find a way out. He didn't understand why they could be so insane to let him go out of all the others who could have went to get help. He had been a coward, someone who couldn't handle it when things got hard. He'd cower and whimper and cry at the very moment things got tough. Well, not anymore. He was ready to face his demons.

All of his demons.

_A/N: I hope this has tickled your tastebuds, guys! :D_


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